Hub City
by I'm Over There
Summary: AU. Huntress comes to Hub City after living in Sicily to kill the hitman who murdered her parents when she was 8 and take down the Mafia where he meets Question who's combating the city's political corruption. They find their causes related and team up. Dead story-if you want to continue yourself PM me and we'll work it out.
1. Prolouge

This may seem like it's jumping into the action, but it's actually right after one occurrence of action.

It's more of a prologue though...to give you a taste.

Next chapter is the first REAL chapter and the story starts from there. This event is more around the third or fourth area...

Please read!

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The car screeched, hitting a fire hydrant as it over shot a turn, signaling that the driver and passengers were gone.

At least for now.

Huntress glared through her purple and black mask, shooting arrow after and arrow at the spot where the car once was, wishing that they would pierce skin.

His skin.

Him.

Santo Cassamento the murderer of her parents.

Footsteps trudged behind her, causing Huntress to whip around, aiming her crossbow at what she though the gang member left behind that she could kill for association, but was only the janitor that Cassamento and his goons were kicking the crap out of when she jumped down the roof to kill him.

She sighed, lowering her bow, "Hey, man. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He replied, stepping out of shadows in the alley and into the light provided by the only streetlamp in the alley behind the coal factory.

The man, dressed like he was a janitor, reached into his uniform pocket, causing Helena to raise her weapon incase he was bringing out his own.

Instead, the janitor took a can of what, in the dim light, resembled hairspray.

"You just got your ass kicked!" Huntress exclaimed, running to the man's side, "What do you doing worrying about your hair right now. You need to get to a hospital!"

"Hairspray?" the man laughed, looking down at the can, "No."

He pressed the spray button and aimed it as his face.

"Are you crazy, man?!" Huntress shrieked, hand on her hip, "Those thugs sure hit your head pretty hard…"

The man, Huntress no longer figured to be a janitor and instead believed was an escaped lunatic, seemed unconcerned by her comments and continued to spray the contents of the container until an orange cloud encompassed his entire body.

Helena eyes widened and her mouth opened.

Okay. Things were getting very confusing.

But the most shocking part of the occurrence was when the cloud cleared, revealing a man in a light blue suit where the janitor once stood. The problem was he had no face.

Huntress drew her crossbow up again and pointed it right at the faceless being, quite ready to rid the earth of whatever demon this was.

"Put the bow down." The Question requested.

Huntress pulled the string back, preparing to shoot.

"Please…" Question added, shrugging.

Huntress shot and Question ducked just in time. The arrow flew and hit a dumpster, poking a hole that allowed probably dangerous factory chemicals to spill out on to the already wet and dirty alley street.

"What are you!?!" She demanded, stepping back.

"That _is_ the question, isn't it?" Question said, shrugging again, "Helena Bertinelli, I presume."

Huntress steadied her bow to shoot.

"Start talking." She ordered, "How do you know my name? Tell me or I'll shoot."

"Don't waste your arrows." Question suggested, unafraid of her threat, "That's your last one. Save it for someone worth killing, at least worth killing to you. Santo Cassamento, right?"

"When I see that man again, I will kill him." Huntress declared.

"Yes, because jumping off a rooftop and trying to kick him worked so well the last time." Question scoffed, folding his arms.

"You know what; I've had just about enough of that attitude of yours, Mr.!" Huntress yelled, "I've got the death weapon here and you don't, so why don't you stop insulting my plans and start telling me about Mr. Cassamento because you seem to be quite familiar with him."

"I'm familiar with a lot of things." Question stated.

"I don't care about a lot of things, I care about Santo Cassamento." Huntress responded.

There was a moment of silence where Huntress and Question just stared, looking at each other. Well Huntress was looking at Question and couldn't tell if Question was looking back because since he had no face, he had no eyes.

"Well talk!" Huntress commanded, "Now!"

"Why should I?" Question asked, his voice sounding as is he was raising an eyebrow, "What's in it for me?"

"Well…hm…." Huntress thought, and remembered her inheritance, "I'm very rich, I can pay you for information."

Question rubbed his chin in deep contemplation, then said "No."

Huntress slapped her forehead, then got another idea. So what if the guy didn't have a face, he was still a guy, right? He still had a…you know…right?

"I can make it worth your while…." She purred seductively, running her hands over her curves, "In many ways…"

It took a full five minutes for Question to think this offer over, but in the end the answer was still the same.

"Nope!" Question exclaimed, "Good try though."

Huntress scowled and growled.

"You gay or something?!" she roared, balling her fists, "How about I beat the answer out of you! Is that a good idea?!"

"Oooh…ugh…." Question gulped, remembering his latest beat down by Santo Cassamento, Steven Mandragora and various other gang members five minutes ago, "Tried that…didn't like it."

"Then what do you suggest?" Huntress inquired hoarsely, "Because I'm all out of ideas and you're not leaving my sight until I hear what I need to know."

"You wanna go for coffee?" Question asked in the most friendly and normal voice one could almost forget he was lacking a face at the moment.

Huntress blinked as if she heard wrong and then just gaped, slumping her shoulders and dropping her hands so that they hung, dead, at her sides, one holding the crossbow.

"Let's go…" She sighed finally, turning to exit the alleyway, Question following right behind her.

"You're paying." He remarked, offhandedly as they disappeared into the city, earning him and exasperating punch.

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Please reveiw!


	2. Vic Sage

Oh well, hiya, this is the first chapter official and yes, it's an AU.

This is my take on what it would be like if QuestionxHuntress was canon outside of the DC Animated Universe and they made a movie or something about it.

I looked up a lot of stuff on Wikipedia and other fansites to get info for this story and I did change some minor (and inconsistent in canon) details to get this story to work out.

I really hope it does and I really hope people like it.

Please read!

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Hub City.

A polluted, filthy cesspool of the worst kind of corruption. A breeding ground for gangs that spawned like maggots, fighting like rival politicians for control of the dump. The dank and gray streets decorated with damp garbage and the skies, equally wet and gray, drizzled the air with smog and acid rain.

It was disgusting.

And so _the question _was this: what did _they _want with it?

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The room was compact like cubicle; it's only windows covered by half closed blinds that let in light in separate thin lines, casting shadows the same size underneath and above so that the desk looked like it was painted with yellow and black divisions.

At this desk there was an open newspaper spread out, select words printed and sentences printed on it were circled in dark blue ink. Matching the ink was a suit and wearing it was a man, holding the blue pen and continuing to choose phrases to highlight.

His name was never real and changed quite often whenever the situation demanded. Currently this man's name was Vic Sage, a reporter considered somewhat of a TV shock-jock, who was scheduled to make his bi-weekly report on all things Hub City in 13 minutes and 24 seconds. And no, he didn't need a timer to keep track of the countdown.

"Now 23 seconds…" he muttered to himself, glancing up at the door to his office. In two minutes and one second_ give or take_, his boss, _only in title_ _it was the Illuminati that had the real control_, Mr. Richard O'Neil, would enter _knocking as he opened the door, feigning politeness_ and inform him _even though he already knew_ that he was on in 'ten' _despite the fact that it was actually 11 minutes, 22 seconds. _

Vic looked back down at the edited newspaper, retracing all of his circlings with the blue pen. It was Hub City's daily newspaper and he had chosen tidbits in articles that reeked of the city's infamous corruption. They weren't out rightly stated, no false reports of minor incidents would be reported every so often _every month to keep people satisfied that something was being done _in the post, but the real stuff was hidden. Buried beneath accounts of seemingly innocent actions.

Vic could smell the corruption.

He would memorize each instance signified by the blue ink and then burn the newspaper with a light on his 'smoking break', disposing of the ashes in the already polluted sewer system. The last thing he would need is someone to find his _evidence. _

"Thirty seconds…" Vic stated, peering up from the paper at the door in anticipation. _27 seconds…26 seconds……………………10 seconds…9 seconds. _

Now was the time Vic was supposed to hear the tapping feet on the graying carpet outside his tiny office. He'd hear the Secretary greet Mr. O'Neil and then he'd hear the creak of the door.

Things were off schedule.

Something was wrong.

Vic stood, taking one last and long look at his content for tonight's show _if there was going to be a show _and folded the newspaper until it was small enough to squeal into his pants pocket without any bulge. He maneuvered around his cluttered desk and took three feet, reaching the door and opening it. _See you on the other side…_

Closing his eyes so the light (_illuminati) _wouldn't blind him as he exited the room, Vic's sense of hearing improved a small enough amount to hear some sort of commotion occurring in the lobby outside the back offices that he was crossing.

Opening his eyes, Vic saw that the room, that was usually filled with subordinates at desks, was empty. The blonde _born a brunette _that was the top secretary was also missing until he heard her voice out in the lobby, obviously combating what ever was ensuing there.

"Under no circumstances…" Her voice shrilled, "Will you or anyone enter that room. At least not until Mr. O'Neil gets here."

"I'm not waiting any longer. O'Neil is not the man I want a word with."

Another familiar voice. _Annoying voice. Always dripping with lies behind his sinister smiles and handshakes. _A politician.

"I don't care who you want to talk to, Mr. Mayor." The secretary huffed, confirming Vic's suspicions, "You're not going in there."

Vic stood outside the door leading to the lobby, listening to the conversation with interest. What would Hub City's puppet mayor Wesley Fermin want with the tiny local TV station? _Other than the fact that it exposes him twice a night. _But to come himself, _mingling with the little people for a non-publicity reason. _What was going on?

"What is going on?" The station manager and owner, O'Neil's voice demanded.

"Oh, Mr. O'Neil!" Fermin exclaimed, his commanding tone turning friendly _fake_, "Just the man I wanted to see." _A lie. Nothing out of place here._

"If it isn't the mayor." O'Neil stated, "What brings you to Station Seven?"

"You know exactly why I'm here." Fermin declared, "Tonight's show. With Vic Sage. Don't air him any longer. Or I'll be forced to take actions against you station."

"Freedom of speech." O'Neil reminded, "You shut us down and Vic will have even more to talk about." _Pulling the guaranteed rights on a politician true but also hitting below the belt, which in its own right was a sad fact. _Vic knew there was a reason he chose this station as a front for his war on Hub City's corruption.

"I think it's time I speak to him directly." Fermin decided, "Where is he?"

This sparked Vic's naturally curiosity, causing him to grip the handle to the door.

"He doesn't have time to talk to you." O'Neil replied, "He's on in five." _6 actually. _

Vic pulled.

All eyes in the lobby, secretary, O'Neil and _the vermin_ Fermin turned to the door and who walked through it.

"There he is." Fermin walked away from orange couch he was standing next to, past the secretary and past O'Neil, straight over to his target. "Mr. Vic Sage. I've been waiting a long time to meet you in person…"

He extended a hand. _Chewed and dirty nails, sweaty palms. _

Vic didn't take it, instead he sneered. "Mr. Wesley Fermin. Here without any photographers or body guards in enemy territory. What a surprise, I'd think you'd send thugs to attack me in an alley or mess up my apartment. But here in person, wow. I'd say I was honored, but I'd be lying."

Fermin dropped his hand and shoved it into the pocket of his dark blue suit. The other hand shot _nervously _up to adjust his red tie looser around his think and wrinkly neck. _Miniscule red slivers, he cut himself shaving. Brown stubble. Yesterday. _

"Talking like that I have no idea why you haven't made it to broadcast, Mr. Sage." Fermin responded, and then he mimicked Vic, "I'd tell you to save it for your show tonight, but going off air."

"No it's not!" O'Neil interjected, joining the two adversaries, "Leave immediately. Or we'll get security."

"I am the mayor of this town!" Fermin announced _as if it meant something_, "Do you have any idea what I can do to you. I can have you shut down with a phone call, make sure you go bankrupt and are hated by the public. Would you like that to happen."

_For dramatic effect on his empty threat, _Fermin reached into his pocket, pulling out a blackberry.

"Do what you want." O'Neil laughed, "We've always managed, right Vic?"

"More than managed." Vic added, "We've thrived. It's slugs like you that keep us alive."

"Well then. I'll be going." Fermin said, grimacing and heading towards the door to leave, "But consider yourself warned. And also, if I am and slug and you feed off of me, what are you, Mr. Sage?"

The secretary folded her arms and O'Neil rolled his eyes. Vic scoffed at the comment and they watched their sworn enemy disappear out the glass doors and into the back of a black car. _With a driver, but not an expensive car. He had come here in secret. _

There was a beep that broke the silence in the lobby resonating from a wristwatch on the secretary's arm.

"Vic!" She cried, "You're on! Now!"

Vic dug his hand into his pocket, crumpling the folded newspaper _fingers turning blue with un-dried ink _and rushed to go do his job.

* * *

And Vic Sage is just a persona he is using so please allow the OOC.

And please reveiw. Huntress is in the next chapter and soon they meet!


	3. Helena Bertinelli

Okay, well this is the second chapter. Since it's short, I'll post the next one soon if I get some reviews.

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The bulb next to the intercom lit red and the pilot pressed the black button of the radio to turn it on. He knew it was against Miss Bertinelli's orders to communicate with radio, but this could be important.

Miss Bertinelli was napping behind closed doors in the cabin, so the pilot decided it was safe to open the channel and speak to whoever was trying to contact them.

The radio fizzed.

-You have entered a restricted zone. Turn your plane around immediately or we will be forced the shoot you down. Over.-

A voice over the intercom spoke in English.

He thought he was still flying over international waters, but it seemed as if he had entered United States Territory earlier than he expected.

"Please repeat. I do not understand." The pilot replied in Italian.

-Speak English. Over.-

The pilot looked out the front and then the side windows of the cockpit, but was unable to see any other plane. That led him to believe that the American plane was flying behind him. He checked the scanners and found his suspicion to be correct.

"English. Inglese?" He spoke into the radio, copying the man's words and then substituting it with his own language, "I am unable to speak that language."

-Speak in English now or we will be forced to shoot you down. If you are speaking Arabic or any other Muslim language we will also be forced to shoot you down. Over.-

The pilot sighed.

He had no idea what the American was trying to tell him and no way to speak to him.

-You have one final warning.- The American said slowly, his Texan accent flowing -Speak. English. Now.-

"Non capisco!" the pilot exclaimed.

-You have been warned. You are a threat to the United States of America. Preparing to fire!- the American replied, -In three…two…one.-

There was a jolt, sending the plan sideways and knocking Helena Bertinelli out of her luxury airline seat and on to the floor and successfully waking and annoying her.

"What happened?" She demanded, bursting into the cabin once the plane was steady.

"I don't know!" the pilot replied.

Another jolt sent Helena to the floor again and from her low location she was able to see the radio. Turned on and blinking a red light.

"I told you not to talk on that thing!" Helena shouted, steadying herself as she stood, "And now see what happens."

Helena snatched the radio and brought it close to her lips. She shouted into the intercom in Italian.

"Will somebody PLEASE tell me what is going on!"

-More of that foreign talk! Lady I do not understand your language, it sounds a little like Mexican which I do not speak.- the voice on the other end responded, -Speak English if you want to live! Over.-

Helena's face turned so red in anger, it matched the designer dress she was wearing.

A stream of unmentionable curse words erupted from her throat, all very much in English.

-Alright, Mexican- the Texan in the plane flying behind them, -It's on now, it is on now. Over.-

Several jolts in succession rocked the plan, sending it tumbling and decreasing its altitude.

"See what you get us into!" Helena accused of her pilot, who merely shook his head in defeat, believing that they were going to be shot out of the sky and die.

Helena lunged at the steering wheel of the plane, throwing the pilot out of his seat and taking his place. Glancing quickly at the map and navigation device, neither of which she understood, Helena dipped the plane and increased its speed, flying it quickly (but not safely) away from danger.

She kept her course and speed constantly growing until the dot that was the American plane disappeared off the radar and they were home free.

"Phew." She sighed, wiping her brow and standing up from the seat.

The shivering and cowering pilot gaped at Helena as she flipped her long black hair and exited the cockpit like she hadn't just flown a plane without proper training, evading an American assailant. When she was gone, it took all his strength to raise himself off the floor and sit back at the wheel to continue their (hopefully peaceful) flight.

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Hub City was flat, like the rest of the Mid-West. There were no hills, mountains, anything. It was also surrounded by farmland, so past the urban, the suburban and the large factories that's pillars and smog enveloped the entire horizon everyday, was the rural.

It was fall and so the crops were picked and the remnants were golden brown in the field that Helena Bertinelli had instructed her pilot to use as a runway.

Twenty miles away was the first sign of town and though Helena did not want to walk, she and her pilot ended up running from an angry farmer who was not at all pleased to see a plane landed where he wanted to plant his seeds next spring.

Daring as always, Helena solved her lack of transportation problem by stealing a tractor unlucky enough to have it's keys still in the ignition, leaving her pilot behind to 'do something about the plane'. What that was gonna be she did not know, and sadly, neither did the pilot.

It didn't matter though, Helena decided as she drove the tractor faster than it was supposed to be driven in the direction of Hub City, once she collected her inheritance she could pay back the farmers for whatever damaged she had caused.

Oh yeah, and she was going to take down the Mafia too.

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Please Reveiw if you want the next chapter, I'll probably post it tomorrow if I get two reveiws, so review even if it's just 'update soon'.


	4. Mafia Meeting

Please read and review.

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Wesley Fermin sat in his office at the City Hall in an armchair facing a fireplace. Above the fireplace two portraits were hung on the wall, one of Hub City's founder and the other of himself, since he was the current mayor.

Hub City had a very heavy Italian population that had migrated there in the mid 1800's for the coal mining industry that was still going strong, evident in the city's many factories.

The town had been lead since its creation, though, by people of German descent, like Fermin himself who was distantly related to Hub's founder. But since the coal mining industry was the town's economy, it was the Italian who had the real control, once they had unionized.

The leader of their unionization was named Marco Bertinelli, and through many accords and agreements with Hub City's politicians he, his family and his coal minor's union gained a lot of influence in the town and kept that throughout the years.

Also, throughout the years, the Bertinelli family and union became a mafia and so using illegal means, seized even more power with in Hub.

But this mafia always kept the communication with the mayor's office. Even when the Bertinelli heirs were assassinated by their hitman Santo Cassamento, who then took control of their turf.

And that's why that night Fermin had to go to a meeting where it all began, the coal factory, to speak with Cassamento and his gang and make sure everything was going according to plan and they were happy. Because if they weren't happy, he wasn't going to be around very long.

Suddenly, the door to his office burst open and an aide ran in carrying an open laptop.

It was that time again.

"He didn't stop!" the aide shouted, "And he's telling everyone you went to the station today!"

Fermin grabbed the laptop and sat it on his lap while the aide watched over the shoulder of the armchair.

Streaming video from a local TV station played where Vic Sage was describing an event where the 'seemingly friendly' mayor came in person to tell him that his show was being shutdown.

Fermin scowled as Vic Sage went on to say that the elections were faked and it was the mafia who got Fermin elected with voter fraud and intimidation so that they could control the city.

"Everyone knows he's crazy." The aide comforted, "No one's gonna believe him anyway. I'm mean; you've been elected three terms in a row. The people love you."

Fermin slapped the laptop closed and then handed it back to the aide.

He walked out of his office deciding that at the meeting with the mafia tonight, he was going to request that Vic Sage be 'taken care of'.

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The line was long, so long that it stretched the entirety of the room and curved slightly to accommodate all those making it up, but Helena had made it to the front.

She was talking to a teller at the First Bank of Hub, providing the proper papers so that she could cash in her parents money.

Helena's eighteenth birthday was last week and so she was legally aloud to leave Sicily where she was sent after her parent's death to her grandparent's home, and come back to the United States to collect her inheritance.

Even though her grandmother had tried to keep her from returning to what she called a crazy country, Helena had quickly used her grandparent's money to buy a private plane (so she could transport weapons) and pilot to get to America. She was going to pay them back once she got her parent's money and killed Santo Cassamento, so it wasn't technically theft.

The teller looked over the paper's Helena had handed her, lifting her glasses to see them better and gasping slightly in surprise.

"So you're her…" the teller, who had read ten years ago in the newspaper about a girl, sent to Sicily after her parent's murder.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah!" Helena whispered quickly, "You think I don't know. Banks are supposed to be confidential, so give me the money and let me go. Cash please."

The teller nodded, stood up from her swiveling chair behind the glass, bringing the paper along as she walked to the back of the bank and out of Helena's sight.

Helena tapped her feet and glanced around the room impatiently until the woman returned with a single white envelope, which she slid under the glass into Helena's hands.

"Finally!" Helena exclaimed.

This had been a long time coming.

"But wait, miss." The teller said, causing Helena to look up from her envelope.

"Yes?" Helena responded, wondering what else there possibly was to say.

"In the safe…" the teller started, pulling out something from her pocket, "There was this…."

The teller slid a silver key under the glass and Helena picked it up.

"A key?" she wondered aloud.

The teller just shrugged and sat back down. Helena mimicked her movement, placing the key into the white envelope. It didn't matter to her what the key was for, all that mattered was killing Cassamento.

Helena spun on her heels, her red dress flowing as she exited the bank feeling like a million bucks (which, of course, she had).

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Three more splashes of cool, refreshing water and the sink was finally turned off. Vic grabbed a white towel off the rack in the station's bathroom and dried his hands and arms, noticing that despite his efforts to keep his shirt dry by rolling up the sleeves, the corners were still wet.

Vic then slapped the towel to his face, rubbing it extra hard against his skin.

When he finally brought it down, he examined the white fabric. Red, beige and black smudges ruined its pristine monochrome. _Nothing remains pure in this corrupt life._

Stage make-up.

Vic hated wearing it, but it was a must for this TV career he had chosen. This _degradation _was a necessary sacrifice as long he was able to chip away at the conspiracy that was Hub City.

He looked into the mirror past the dried water partially covering to see that the mask was washed off enough not to be noticeable.

Satisfied, Vic returned the soiled towel to the rack and left the bathroom.

The secretary was waiting outside and smacked a cellular phone shut with a huffy "GOODBYE!" when she saw Vic emerge from the restroom.

"That was the mayor's aide on the phone." She stated, "Mr. Fermin wasn't happy."

"Then I did well." Vic shrugged, passing the secretary and moving towards the exit.

"He was even more specific than 'the mayor' was about what was going to happen to this TV station." The secretary added, "I'm going to talk to Mr. O'Neil."

Vic didn't reply to her and instead walked out the door onto the streets of Hub City. _The secretary had a very annoying habit of announcing everything that she was going to do. _

"I'm going to have to wash that towel you always leave dirty too!" she called after him. _Proof. _

Vic concluded he had better things to think about than whatever the secretary was doing. _Her words would be important when Hub was clean, when the Illuminati was no more. _

Kicking a can out of his path down the sidewalk, Vic stared up at the gray rectangular buildings and smoggy sky. One of the imposing factories in the distance that blocked his view of the setting sun wasn't shooting up smoke to his surprise. A malfunction? A new ozone layer regulation?

_A conspiracy. _

Even if it turned out to be nothing, if Vic didn't go investigate, he wouldn't be able to sleep. _As if he slept. _

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"Let me ask you something?"

The Question turned to see an elderly homeless man whose one arm was clutching a nondescript liquor in a brown paper bag. His beard, skin, eyes and closed were dulled gray from their original colors. _Just like everything else in Hub City. _He was leaning against a trashcan next to large building.

Question figured that the man was too drunk to realize that he had no face, so stopped his stride towards the factory without smoke to entertain the outcast's inquiring.

"Ask away." He invited.

"Six coal factories producing smoke and one not." The homeless man stated, his voice cracking, his sentence interrupted by a belch, "And so one is different and gets all the attention because it has no smoke."

Question took a longer look at the man.

"But let me ask you this, son." He repeated, "Even though everyone rushes to go see the 'special' factory, it's the six ignored others that are working."

"…okay…?" Question responded, unsure of how to interpret the drunk's statement. _An attempt at a moral maybe, a satirical yet sad truth of life? _

"They're not in there, son." The homeless man said flatly, pointing with his bottle at the smoke-less factory, "It was only a malfunction. They're in the one next to it."

"And who are 'they'?" Question asked.

"Who indeed." The homeless man burst into a fit of crazed laughter and took a swig out of his brown paper bag.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Huntress leaped from rooftop to rooftop, her cape trailing in the air behind her. She loved her costume, she had been working on it since she was ten and made up her mind that Santo Cassamento had to die and thought that it had come out quite well. Also, during her time in Sicily, she learned martial arts and how to fire her weapon of choice, a crossbow all for the same reason.

She knew exactly where Cassamento and the rest of his gang would be meeting. It was the same place her father and business buddies, who she learned later were Mafia, met. It was the first coal factory. The place where it all began, with the minors, the union and then the mafia.

All she'd need to do was bust in, lodge a couple arrows into Cassamento's chest and get out of there without getting shot. Simple, really.

No one would even know it was her because of the costume and they wouldn't care that he was dead because he was a gang member.

Yep, Huntress had it all planned out perfectly.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The wooden table, naturally rose red and imported from Latin America, was out of place amongst the gray metal walls and factory equipment, the only similar color in the room a fire orange, swimming in a silver vat of melted coal.

Sitting in a matching chair at the table, Wesley Fermin crossed and uncrossed his legs under the table, and adjusted his collar, tie-less due to the heat. Behind him stood his aide, equally nervous and rubbing his hands together as if he was washing them with soap and water.

Across the table on both sides of an empty chair, two muscular mob body guards in matching black uniforms glowered down at the man, their stolen automatic weapons ready to fire.

Fermin closed his eyes, picturing himself anywhere else, and listened to the steady hum of the machinery.

A sharp and heavy clang roused him, and he looked up to see Santo Cassamento, followed by Steven Mandragora march into the room. Mandragora lumbered like a whale, he had been recently released from prison but his descriptive nickname, Moby Dick, stuck. His red eyes shot Fermin a threatening glance, causing Fermin to freeze.

Contrasting Mandragora's large and albino appearance, Cassamento was tan, with dark hair and eyes. There was an aura he carried arrogant posture that made it easy to tell that he was the man in charge.

He sat down at the table and looked Fermin face to face.

"Well let's get this show on the road, shall we?" he began in his Italian accent.

There was a quiet moment in which Fermin found the body guards' and Mandragora's guns pointed straight at him and Cassamento frowning. His aide jumped slightly behind him, not sure to be more frightened at the guns or the frown.

"He said 'shall we'." Mandragora stated, "Do not make him repeat himself."

Fermin got the picture, "We shall." He said lamely.

"Alright then." Cassamento's smile returned to his face, "Mr. Fermin, you are the mayor of Hub City, are you not?"

"I am." Fermin nodded.

It always started like this. Cassamento would ask him obvious questions, point weapons at him, and smile and frown at him. It was all in an attempt to unnerve him, make him feel safe and then unnerve him again and it was working. Cassamento was an expert.

"Then can you explain to me this?" Cassamento asked, knowing full well the answer, "Why is it that you must come every month to me, pay me and even acquit my friends of their crimes?" he gestured to Mandragora.

Fermin was silent, bowing his head in defeat just how he knew Cassamento wanted him to.

"I know you know this one." Cassamento continued.

"Answer!" Mandragora barked and then chuckled, seeing Fermin's aide shiver and hold back a squeal.

"It is because despite the fact that I am the mayor," Fermin recited his practiced answer, "You are the one in control and so Hub City is at your mercy, not mine."

"Very good." Cassamento agreed contentedly, then changed his tone drastically again, "But it's all supposed to be a secret as you very well know. If the truth came out we both would suffer and you reputation would be permanently damaged. You'd lose your influence over the legal system and we'd probably all end up in jail."

"I am aware of that fact." Fermin stated, fearing where the conversation was leading.

"Now, I never needed to use legal means to get what I want." Cassamento declared, "My power extends far beyond your constrained abilities and I could easily be way out of reach if the time came that this union between mafia and state was exposed. But you, you have no where to go and will face the consequences of toppling my secret empire that I worked so hard to achieve."

By this time, all weapons in the room were aimed at Fermin. The click of their preparation to fire echoed against the metal walls, shaking the hum of the machinery and forcing Fermin and his aide to take deep breaths to calm themselves.

"With all due respect, what are you trying to say?" Fermin asked, slowly and evenly as to cause no offense.

Cassamento looked up from his chair at the towering presence of Mandragora, who smiled maliciously and pulled a piece of paper out of a pocket on the inside of his suit and tossed it on to the table so it skidded, spinning, until it reached Fermin.

Fermin stared down as it landed in front of him and saw it was a manilla folder stuffed full of papers. He and his aide shared a questioningly glance, then Fermin looked to Cassamento.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Open it." Cassamento sneered, gesturing to the folder.

Doing as he was told, Fermin lifted up the top of the folder to see a picture of Vic Sage grinning back at him, his orange hair a match with the fire burning in the factory room. Fermin flipped through the folder to see that a lot of information was compiled on Sage and that most of it had to do with the fact that Sage seemed to know all about Fermin and Cassamento working together.

"Where did you get this?" Fermin inquired.

"Are you questioning my sources?" Cassamento laughed, "I have ways, you think this man who talks on TV about you twice a week, would no come to my attention?"

The truth was, Cassamento had received the folder in the mail mysteriously and had no idea where it came from, but he was a mob boss so he had to act like he did.

"I was going to bring that up this very meeting." Fermin explained, "I was hoping you could get some guys on him…"

"No." Cassamento said, flatly, "You created this problem, you are going to have to solve with it."

"It's not my fault!" Fermin exclaimed, despite the weapons aimed at his head. He had to plead his case.

"Are you implying that this Vic Sage learned of our agreement from my people?" Cassamento ventured, raising an eyebrow you.

"I'd take this time to revise your statement, _Mr. Mayor_." Mandragora jeered.

"I tried." Fermin restarted, "But he wouldn't listen. The whole television station didn't care if they got shut down or not."

"Try harder." Cassamento ordered, standing up from the table, "We'll speak then."

Cassamento, followed by his three guards, turned to the door they had come from and walked towards it.

"Wait!" Fermin called after him, "We still need to discuss—"

He was cut off by a bullet flying past him and grazing his aide who dropped to the ground, screaming.

"He said you'll talk when you've taken care of that man." Mandragora reminded, glaring back at Fermin with pink eyes, "And shut that one up before I do, his noise is already grating on my nerves."

Fermin knelt next to the aide and muttered, "Shut up!"

He helped his employee stand and together they limped out of the factory.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Connected to the coal melting room was a long gray hallway with many doors leading to various other rooms of the factories and flickering overhead lights hung by exposed wiring.

Mopping the floor of this hallway was what looked to be a normal janitor, wearing the right uniform and headphones attached to an outdated portable CD-player, humming along quietly to the song playing.

He was as inconspicuous as inconspicuous could be.

Except for the fact that his head phones were not streaming music to his ears, they were listening devices so acute the 'janitor' (you all know who it really is) could hear a fly land on the wooden handle of his mop.

He could also hear every single word of a very revealing exchange between Hub City's Mayor Wesley Fermin and known Mafia Don Santo Cassamento.

Now, judging by the slam of the metal door, the meeting was over and the mafia members would be in the next hall coming his way.

Time to go.

The lights once again quivered, but this time shut off completely along with the all the machines in the building.

"WHOA!"

One of Cassamento's body guards could be heard exclaiming, his shout amplified by the janitor's ear piece.

"Who turned out the lights?!"

The halls were pitch dark and it was a perfect cover for the Question to make his escape before Cassamento noticed a janitor that wasn't supposed to be there.

"Perhaps another malfunction…like the next factory."

Steven Mandragora.

Question recognized that voice anywhere, it was reminiscent of a choking snake.

Question turned to run in the dark but the water he was washing the floor with caused him to slip, clanging head first into the metal bucket with the mop poking his stomach.

A very loud mistake.

"What was that?!"

"Go find out!"

Running footsteps rounded the corner and neared the false janitor who was still trying to lift himself up of the wet floor. He could tell by the number of pounding shoes that only two men were running towards him.

Steadying himself, Question prepared to fight.

He couldn't exactly see his targets, but they couldn't see him either and so ran right past the side-stepping Question and into the mop. They hit the ground hard, simultaneously groaning in pain and skidding against the most floor.

Just as Question's eyes were adjusting to the dark the electricity, and so the lights zapped back on and he found himself face to face with Mandragora.

"I remember giving each employee the day off." Mandragora stated, "But I guess I'll have to deliver the message to you in person."

Before he could move, Question found himself punched in the face and flying backwards. He landed on the fallen bodyguards and looked up to see Mandragora lumbering towards him. He saw glint and followed it to Mandragora's incoming fist.

The whale was wearing a brass knuckle.

Question had to do something now, he grabbed the bucket, still partially filled with water, and watched it dent inches from his face as Mandragora's fist connected. Question then threw the bucket so it hit Mandragora in the stomach, giving him time to stand up and run.

When he looked behind him after dashing a few yards down the hall, he saw the two body guards, Mandragora and Cassamento all running after him, closing in.

Question saw a door and swung it open and raced into the alleyway outside with the mafia at his heals. It was dark, it had to be about 11pm, and a streetlamp was the only source of illumination.

"You're not getting away from us!" he heard a body guard behind him yell.

The bellow was so loud to Question's ear that he pulled the listening devices and shoved it into his pocket.

And then there was a grasps of sharp nails digging into his shoulder. Mandragora grabbed Question and spun him around, staring him in the face.

"Who are you and who are you working for?" He asked with onion breath, "Because I know you are not a janitor."

Santo Cassamento was soon behind Mandragora along with his two body guards and they all surrounded Question.

"I'm not talking." Question replied, trying to make it seem like he was working for more than just the good of Hub City and the world (he is so benevolent).

"No matter." Cassamento shrugged, "We won't need your answers when you're dead."

Cassamento snapped his fingers and on his cue the two body guards began punching and kicking Question who was held by Mandragora. Question gritted his teeth, knowing he had no other choice but to bare the pain.

He used a trick he had picked up from watching recorded day time television on Sundays searching for hidden subliminal messages and propaganda. He removed himself from the situation and escaped into his own mind…

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Question recalled information he had retained from this experience.

The link between Fermin and Cassamento was confirmed.

Two factories were having electricity malfunctions today.

One at a time that prevented him from making his escape.

His escape from the factory he had been directed to by a random old homeless man.

A random old homeless man he had never seen before in the area.

A…

…Coincidence? _Never. _

Question of all human beings knew that coincidence was a word synonymous with hidden link _and there was always a link…_

There was no way that the lights would go out when he was trying to get away from Cassamento's guards, unless they were made to by some force that wanted him to be caught.

The other factory having a malfunction was only staged to get him to go there and think nothing was amiss when the lights went out again and get captured and beat up, probably killed.

He was set up.

Question had no doubt in his mind that the Illuminati always had a hand in Hub City, from the moment the coal minors union turned from respectable laborers into an organized crime gang.

This had to be their doing…but why?

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Blinking back to reality, Question heard Mandragora saying along the lines of "had enough yet, whelp?".

"Nope. Not yet. " Question shook his head, which was bruised and swimming from the blows, "More please."

"I'll give you more!" Mandragora roared, his arrogance turning to agitation at this 'janitor's' stubbornness.

"Wait." Cassamento commanded lightly.

The word was said and Question was dropped onto the hard dirty and gray concrete, staring up at the smog gray sky and gray building walls with blurry vision and blackened eyes.

Cassamento was soon in his view, fading in and out and sometimes multiplying. The mob boss looked Question over, stroking his chin knowingly.

"This one…" he mused, "He is not working for anyone. He's in this all alone and has no one to report back to or come to save him."

"So?!" Mandragora blurted, "He was poking his nose into our business, why shouldn't I teach him a lesson?"

"Oh, you can." Cassamento conceded, "I just had noticed something about him, that's all."

Question wondered what the mob boss 'had noticed' about him, but decided it didn't matter anyway. It's not like he could ask him what it was.

But this little halt was proving beneficial to Question, he was recovering. He could now see straight and the pain was already beginning to numb. A slight twist in his torso, unnoticed by the mafia members and some of Question's dislocated bones were back in place.

Then an expensive loafer slammed down hard on his chest and Question looked to see that Cassamento was stepping on him, leaning in close.

"CIA, FBI, Cosa Nostra…" he whispered, "…_Illuminati_…."

Question's eyes widened at his words.

"…Who you are, I don't care." Cassamento continued quietly, "I have worked to hard for control of this gang and control of this city and no one is going to take it away from me."

Cassamento rose and used the foot jabbed into Question's chest to push Question back so he hit a dumpster.

"Finish him." He ordered.

Mandragora led the other two guards towards Question, who was now half standing, leaning on the dumpster for support and breathing heavily.

There was clang, a boots landing on the dumpster from jumping off the roof, and Question was knocked back down from the force that also sent Cassamento's three guards backing away.

"Santo Cassamento!"

All the men looked to see a woman, dressed in purple and black complete with mask and cape, standing on the dumpster.

"I've waited so long for this moment…" she took a deep breath, sucking in the filthy factory air, "Santo Cassamento, you are the hunted…"

She drew a crossbow and aimed it at Cassamento, whose body guards moved in front of him.

"And I…am the Huntress."

* * *

Tell me what you think, review.


	5. The Diner

In light of a recent reveiw, I decided to post the next chapter. I hope you like even though it has some stuff from the Prologue....

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"Shoot her!" Mandragora shouted, drawing his automatic gun and aiming it at Huntress while the other body guard's followed his example.

Cassamento held up hand, and the guns were lowered.

"Another visitor." He laughed, "But this one I recognize…"

Huntress took a step back, sliding slightly on the side of the dumpster but quickly steadying herself and her crossbow and glaring at Cassamento.

"Welcome back home, Miss Bertinelli." Cassamento greeted sarcastically, clapping his hands together, "And happy late birthday, it was the sixth, right? You have finally come of age and so are here to avenge the tragic deaths of your parents which, in your grief, mistakenly believed to be a murder."

"I know what you did." Huntress growled, "You are just too much of a coward to admit it. When I kill you, I won't care who knows!"

"I'm sorry, Miss Bertinelli, but that will not be happening tonight, or any time in the future." Cassamento stated, folding his arms.

"Wanna bet?!" Huntress warned.

Mandragora and the body guards raised their guns once again.

"Oh, no, I don't gamble with women." Cassamento shrugged, "But if you want to kill me, go ahead. Try."

Huntress tightened her fingers on the trigger of her bow. She remembered what Cassamento had done, hearing the shots, seeing the silhouettes of her parents fall as if in slow motion to the marble floor of the mansion she had once lived in until the last day of her childhood…

She wanted to shoot him so badly.

"I'm waiting…" Cassamento reminded, smiling like a shark. When nothing happened, he laughed again, "Just as I thought. Miss Bertinelli you haven't changed since that day. Always so frightened…unable to act. You can't kill me now and you did nothing then, as your parents died right in front of your eyes…So I've heard, of course, since I wasn't there."

There was silence while Huntress just clenched her fists and teeth harder.

"You!" she screeched finally, leaping off of the dumpster towards Cassamento, her leg molded into a kick.

Mandragora used the butt of his gun to block the offense, knocking Huntress to the pavement with his brute force and then pointing the gun at her fallen form.

"Should I kill her now?" he asked, craning his fat neck to look back at Cassamento.

"Leave her." Cassamento ordered, "We have more important things to deal with across town, she is of no threat."

"Pity…" Mandragora complained, "I would have liked to see her blood."

Cassamento lead his thugs out of the factory alley way, leaving Huntress lying on the ground and Question slumped against the dumpster. A car soon came and the four mafia members got in.

Huntress managed to stand in time to see the car pulling away. She raced to the edge of the alley, watching it drive away. The car screeched, hitting a fire hydrant as it over shot a turn, signaling that the driver and passengers were gone.

At least for now.

Huntress glared through her purple and black mask, shooting arrow after and arrow at the spot where the car once was, wishing that they would pierce Cassamento's skin and kill him.

Why didn't she shoot when she had the chance?

Footsteps trudged behind her, causing Huntress to whip around, aiming her crossbow at what she though the gang member left behind that she could kill for association, but was only the janitor that Cassamento and his goons were kicking the crap out of when she jumped down the roof to kill him.

She sighed, lowering her bow, "Hey, man. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He replied, stepping out of shadows in the alley and into the light provided by the only streetlamp in the alley behind the coal factory.

The man in question (lol get it, because it _was_ Question) dressed like he was a janitor, reached into his uniform pocket, causing Helena to raise her weapon incase he was bringing out his own.

Instead, the janitor took a can of what, in the dim light, resembled hairspray.

"You just got your ass kicked!" Huntress exclaimed, running to the man's side, "What do you doing worrying about your hair right now. You need to get to a hospital!"

"Hairspray?" the man laughed, looking down at the can, "No."

He pressed the spray button and aimed it at his face.

"Are you crazy, man?!" Huntress shrieked, hand on her hip, "Those thugs sure hit your head pretty hard…"

The man, Huntress no longer figured to be a janitor and instead believed was an escaped lunatic, seemed unconcerned by her comments and continued to spray the contents of the container until an orange cloud encompassed his entire body.

Helena eyes widened and her mouth opened.

Okay. Things were getting very confusing.

But the most shocking part of the occurrence was when the cloud cleared, revealing a man in a light blue suit where the janitor once stood. The problem was he had no face.

Huntress drew her crossbow up again and pointed it right at the faceless being, quite ready to rid the earth of whatever demon this was.

"Put the bow down." The Question requested.

Huntress pulled the string back, preparing to shoot.

"Please…" Question added, shrugging.

Huntress shot and Question ducked just in time. The arrow flew and hit a dumpster, poking a hole that allowed probably dangerous factory chemicals to spill out on to the already wet and dirty alley street.

"What are you!?!" She demanded, stepping back.

"That _is_ the question, isn't it?" Question said, shrugging again, "Helena Bertinelli, I presume."

Huntress steadied her bow to shoot.

"Start talking." She ordered, "How do you know my name? Tell me or I'll shoot."

"Don't waste your arrows." Question suggested, unafraid of her threat, "That's your last one. Save it for someone worth killing, at least worth killing to you. Santo Cassamento, right?"

"When I see that man again, I will kill him." Huntress declared.

"Yes, because jumping off a rooftop and trying to kick him worked so well the last time." Question scoffed, folding his arms.

"You know what; I've had just about enough of that attitude of yours, Mr.!" Huntress yelled, "I've got the death weapon here and you don't, so why don't you stop insulting my plans and start telling me about Mr. Cassamento because you seem to be quite familiar with him."

"I'm familiar with a lot of things." Question stated.

"I don't care about a lot of things, I care about Santo Cassamento." Huntress responded.

There was a moment of silence where Huntress and Question just stared, looking at each other. Well Huntress was looking at Question and couldn't tell if Question was looking back because since he had no face, he had no eyes.

"Well talk!" Huntress commanded, "Now!"

"Why should I?" Question asked, his voice sounding as is he was raising an eyebrow, "What's in it for me?"

"Well…hm…." Huntress thought, and remembered her inheritance, "I'm very rich, I can pay you for information."

Question rubbed his chin in deep contemplation, then said "No."

Huntress slapped her forehead, then got another idea. So what if the guy didn't have a face, he was still a guy, right? He still had a…you know…right?

"I can make it worth your while…." She purred seductively, running her hands over her curves, "In many ways…"

It took a full five minutes for Question to think this offer over, but in the end the answer was still the same.

"Nope!" Question exclaimed, "Good try though."

Huntress scowled and growled.

"You gay or something?!" she roared, balling her fists, "How about I beat the answer out of you! Is that a good idea?!"

"Oooh…ugh…." Question gulped, remembering his latest beat down by Santo Cassamento, Steven Mandragora and various other gang members five minutes ago, "Tried that…didn't like it."

"Then what do you suggest?" Huntress inquired hoarsely, "Because I'm all out of ideas and you're not leaving my sight until I hear what I need to know."

"You wanna go for coffee?" Question asked in the most friendly and normal voice one could almost forget he was lacking a face at the moment.

Huntress blinked as if she heard wrong and then just gaped, slumping her shoulders and dropping her hands so that they hung, dead, at her sides, one holding the crossbow.

"Let's go…" She sighed finally, turning to exit the alleyway, Question following right behind her.

"You're paying." He remarked, offhandedly as they disappeared into the city, earning him and exasperated punch.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was almost midnight and there were no stars of moon in the sky to light Hub City for they were all hidden behind smoggy clouds. There also was no open coffee shop in sight and the only restaurant serving at that late hour was Joe's 24 Hour Diner.

Huntress and Question took their seats at a red booth in the very back on the sticky plastic benches across from each other. Question quickly hid his (lack of) face behind a laminated menu with crusted food on it before the waitress reached the table.

She looked down at the odd pair with sagging eyes that matched her drooping body. She was obviously drowsy and wishing she was at home, she smelled of cigarette smoke and had applied too much blue eye shadow to her tired eyes. Her smudged red lipstick matched her stretching red uniform.

"What can I get you…" she drawled, eyes and pencil ready on her notepad.

Huntress picked up her menu and looked it over, wrinkling her nose at the American choices, having only been used to gourmet Italian cuisine prepared by her grandparent's person chef.

"I'll have…well…I'll just have water, do you do that here?" She asked.

"You have to make an order." The waitress declared, looking up from the notepad at Huntress and becoming quite shocked at her outfit, "What are you wearing?"

"What are you wearing?" Huntress retorted, pointing at unattractive and unfortunate mini-dress with pockets that the middle-aged waitress was too old and too overweight to be wearing.

The waitress shook her head, "Alright, ma'am, let's try this again." She sighed, "What would you like to order from this fine establishment?"

Huntress smacked the menu down on the table and gave it one last, long look.

"_Pee-zah_." She stated, choosing the most familiar item, " I want _pee-zah_."

"You mean _peetza_?" The waitress suggested, raising her eyebrows.

"No, pee-zah." Huntress repeated, sounding out the word and separating the syllables with hand gestures, "Peeeee-zaaaah."

"That's peetza." The waitress tried, "It's pronounced pitza."

"No it isn't!" Huntress declared, pounding the menu, "It's pee-zah! I'm Italian."

"And I'm American." The waitress countered, "And here in America, we call it peetza!"

"Pee-zah!" Huntress corrected.

"Whatever it is, she'll have it!" Question interjected, from behind his menu.

"Alright then." The waitress said curtly, jotting down words on her notepad, "Peetza it is." She grinned in victory, revealing her yellowing teeth.

Huntress humph-ed, folding her arms and glaring across the table at Question, "Who says you get to choose for me anyway? I am the one paying anyway…"

"You two were getting annoying." Question shrugged, still hidden by the menu.

"And for you, sir?" the waitress turned to Question, "What would you like order?"

"Nothing." He replied.

"What?" the waitress coughed, "Come again."

"Everything on here no doubt has been tainted by the government in some way." Question explained.

"No way, sir." The waitress disagreed, "Joe's just made the switch to all organic last year. No pesticides in this food, nothing. City policy."

"Oh, I know that." Question stated, "The mayor worked hard to pass that bill. But it's not the pesticides we need to worry about; they're harmless…unless you're a bug. It's the organic food we need to fear. The pesticide scare is all government controlled health group propaganda …"

"Then is there anything you're going to order?" the waitress asked.

"Coffee." Question said.

"Are you sure the caffeine won't fry your brain or something?" the waitress asked sarcastically.

"It has." Question laughed, "And its done wonders…I like it with cream and sugar."

"You two are pieces of work." The waitress rolled her eyes, jotting down Question's order.

She tried to pick of Huntress's menu, which was flat against the table and currently stuck. Giving up, the waitress tried to take the menu blocking Question's head from view, but he didn't let.

"Why won't you give me the menu?" she inquired.

"You let her keep hers…" Question exclaimed childishly, pointing at the menu seemingly glued to the table by left over syrup.

"Alright…" the waitress conceded, "You can keep it. Just don't take it out of the store."

She sauntered away, notepad in hand, muttering about the number of years she had to retirement. When she was safely in the kitchen, Question set his menu lightly on the table, taking care that it wouldn't stick like Huntress's had done.

"You wanted to talk, let's talk." He suggested.

"Okay first things first." Huntress began, "How are you talking without a mouth and where is your face?"

"Hold on, now." Question stopped the conversation, "I thought you wanted to know about Santo Cassamento."

"I do." Huntress said, "But I really have to know what happened to your face."

"Nothing happened to my face." Question asserted.

"Okay…so you were born without one." Huntress concluded disbelieving, "Grandma told me this was a crazy country but…how are you talking without a mouth though?"

"I have a mouth." Question explained, "And a nose and two eyes. It's all here."

"So…they're invisible…?" Huntress ventured, leaning across the table to take a closer look at Question.

Question slapped his forehead and groaned, "Why are you asking so many questions…"

Huntress pulled back and folded her arms, "I'm paying for your coffee to answer my questions so start talking."

"My secrets are my own but so are the world's secrets." Question countered, "I'll tell you about anything you want. Just not about me."

"Fine." Huntress pouted, "Tell me about Cassamento and his Cosca gang."

"Well I'm sure you know all about the gang's history since it was once directly connected to your family." Question started, "You must know its base is the coal industry, and that it controls the entire city through the mayor's office. But, did you know it's also been branching out for some unknown reason into the organic farming industry that surrounds Hub."

"Interesting." Huntress considered, remembering her run in with an angry farmer, "But not what I care about. I want to know about Santo Cassamento. Where does he live, who are his friends? How can I get him alone so I can kill him…"

"You could have had him dead tonight." Question stated, "I recognize your crossbow's make, it's fast enough you could have had all four of them shot down before they could even pull their triggers."

"Don't remind me…" Huntress sighed hopelessly, resting her chin on her fist, her elbows creating a 90 degree angle with the table.

Silence enveloped the two masked people.

Huntress bit her lip and her eyes flitted about the room, looking over the restaurant which was composed of booths like the one she sat in, a few standing tables and a long counter bar hiding the kitchen.

The lights were long and dim and bugs circled around them, bumping them. The smell of ketchup, cheese and syrup hung in the room offending Huntress's nose.

She felt reduced city in the lowly diner. Back in Sicily she never would have set foot in a place like this and even when she lived in Hub so long ago, her parents never would have taken her to a dump like this.

Question counted the number of seats in the room. There were 39 and 13 tables.

Those numbers were illuminati and Question's suspicions about this organic food serving diner were confirmed. This place was just as corrupt as the rest of Hub City. No doubt illegal aliens would be cooking his coffee and Huntress's pizza in the back kitchen.

There was the sound swinging doors and squeaking sneakers.

Question and Huntress looked up to see the waitress returning to their table with a metal tray carrying a pizza and a mug of coffee. Question flipped the menu back up over his face, causing the waitress to scowl and shake her head as she sat the food down on the table.

"What the heck is this?!" Huntress asked, gesturing to the pizza.

"It's your _pee-zah_!" the waitress answered, sarcastically mimicking her pronunciation.

"I've never seen something so disgusting in my life!" Huntress exclaimed, pointing at the greasy mess of cheese and pepperoni, "I'm not eating this."

"No refunds." The waitress stated, "Eat it or not, you're paying."

"What?!" Huntress shouted, smacking the plate of pizza off the table and on to the floor.

"It's written on the menu." The waitress shrugged, "I'm sure your friend knows since he won't put that menu down."

Question coughed when he heard himself mentioned and reached for his coffee, drinking the entire cup in one long sip.

"Ugh…I hate this cheap brand…" he muttered, resting the mug back on the table.

"You know in all my twenty six long years working at this restaurant…" the waitress declared, "I have never had such terrible customers! You two win the award!"

"That's it!" Huntress lifted herself from the bench she was sitting at dramatically, "We're leaving!"

She reached across the table, wrenched the menu from Question's fingers and pulled him past the waitress and out of the restaurant.

"You never paid!" the waitress called after them, standing in the door way as Huntress stomped down the street, pulling Question.

Question turned his head and looked back at the waitress, who fainted and fell back into her prison that was Joe's 24 Hour Diner when she saw he had no face.

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Please reveiw.


	6. Teaming Up

Even though no one reads this, I got bored so decided to post this chapter.

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Once out of the diner and in to the night, Question began walking away down street towards the sidewalk, leaving Huntress standing under a streetlamp.

"Wait a minute!" she called after him, "Just where are you going?"

"Home." He answered, not turning around as he continued his trek.

"I don't think so!" Huntress declared, running after him and pulling him back around to face her, "You still didn't answer all my questions."

"You never paid for the food." Question stated, "Besides, we were in there for thirty seven minutes, you had a lot of time to ask questions and you never did."

"Well that's because YOU started bothering me about how I wasn't able to kill Cassamento back there." Huntress explained, "I was a little too angry to ask any questions."

"More like confused and doubting yourself." Question corrected.

Huntress let out a long sigh, "You know what. I'm through. I don't need your help and I'll just find Cassamento and kill him. He can't be that hard to locate…"

"Try an address book." Question suggested, spinning around and going back to walking, "I'm off."

"Um…ok." Huntress replied, "See you….never I guess."

"I guess." Question shrugged, back still facing Huntress.

And he was gone into the darkness of some alley that the city's budget couldn't afford lighting.

Huntress decided to go back to her hotel room and get some sleep, tomorrow was going to be a big day.

* * *

Vic Sage new something was wrong before he even stepped into his apartment.

Everyday before leaving his home, Vic would set a piece of transparent plastic between the door and the wall so if the door was opened, the plastic would fall and he would know someone had been in his apartment without his knowledge.

Looking down, Vic saw the miniscule plastic piece resting on the wooden hallway floor of his apartment building. He didn't pick it up and instead, unlocked the door to the apartment and walked cautiously inside, unsure of what to expect.

The first sight he saw was his living room, his TV screen was broken, its glass decorating the carpeted floor. His couch was ripped up, the stuffing protruding from beneath its dull blue fabric, the bookshelf was knocked over and pages from the books were torn out and his bare gray walls now had holes in them, revealing fiberglass insulation.

Passing through his first room, he moved into his kitchen. The refrigerator was on the floor and the food was spilling out, broken jars and cans covered the tiles and the doors were pulled off the cabinets.

In the bathroom, all the toilet paper was pulled off the handle and stuffed into the toilet, which was flooding and the shower and wink were running, wasting water and costing him a lot on water bills.

Vic left everything untouched, he knew it was Fermin who had ordered this done and he had to leave immediately because he did not want Fermin or the perpetrators to know he had seen the damage.

This was not only a scare tactic to try to get him to back off from exposing Fermin's connections.

No doubt, he was expected to call the police, who would come to his apartment and on Fermin's orders, kill him writing it all down on a report that they killed the intruder instead and get away with it. Vic Sage was not about to fall for this plan.

Instead he had to figure out a careful plan on how to confront Fermin about this incident, especially since the mafia involvement had been confirmed and he was now on the kill-list.

Vic dramatically turned, his overcoat and red hair whipping around as he did, and left the apartment exactly as it was so it looked as if he had never been there to see what had happened to his property.

* * *

Helena Bertinelli lay with one hand propping up her chin and the other flipping channels with a remote on a lavish king sized bed across from a 23 inch flat screen TV in her very expensive suite room in the hotel.

The remnants of a hundred dollar room service meal, cooked 'just like grandma's cooks used to make', sat on a white plate on the floor discretely covering a red stain setting into the white carpet, from a glass of wine she should not have drank.

Helena had tried everything to get to sleep, but she was still jumpy from running into Cassamento and now was doing what ever she could to not remember the murder attempt that went so horribly wrong.

There was nothing on television that she was any where near interested in watching, and she was beginning to miss her favorite Italian soap operas.

Grudgingly, Helena stood up and crossed the room, knowing what she had to do. She reached down and unzipped one of her suitcase that she never bothered to unpack despite the large closet and dresser in her suite and grabbed a plastic translucent orange container with a white label. Words were typed onto the label in Italian.

Sleeping pills…

A last resort Helena had 'borrowed' from her Grandfather's medicine cabinet the day before she left for Hub City, remembering his words calling America a 'noisy crazy country'; very different from the quiet and calm seaside-countryside they lived in.

A honk and a screeching car supported this claim and added the deciding vote in whether to down the pills or not. A unanimous yes.

But before she could swallow the oval objects resting in her palm there was a knock at the door.

Helena stood up from where she was crouching next to her bag and crossed the room to the door, not looking through the peephole before unlocking the three provided locks and removing the chain hooked to the wall.

She swung open the door, glaring at who ever would pay her a visit at 1am.

"Look buddy, it's one in the morning!" Helena shouted, "Who are you and what in the world would you want?!"

"You know who I am." Question stated, pushing past Helena into her hotel room, "But that was a pretty rude welcome for someone who could have easily been Santo Cassamento or one of his goons come to pay you a visit."

"What are you doing here and how did you find me?" Helena asked following him as he surveyed her suite, "What do you want?"

"Again with the questions." Question sighed, sitting down on the edge of her bed like he owned it.

"You're kind of in my room, so I think I have a right." Helena exclaimed, "Answer!"

"My apartment's been trashed." Question explained, laying back on the bed, hands behind his head, "I need a place to stay."

"And why here?" Helena demanded, "You could have rented your own room or stayed with a friend. You must want something else."

"Some room service would be nice…" Question mused, "You never did buy me any food."

"So you show up out of nowhere in the middle of the night and expect me to buy you food…why?" Helena asked, restating the facts.

"I was thinking we could team up." Question declared, sitting up to look Helena eye to eye…that is if his mask had eye holes, "I need to take down the mayor and you need to take down the mafia. They're teamed up, so we should too."

"Hold up…wait a minute…" Helena said, suddenly starting to laugh, "You want to team up with me. You're the one who walked away before."

"Are you turning me down?" Question asked, "You need my help."

"No I don't!" Helena huffed, folding her arms and turning her back to Question.

"Nice pajamas." Question snickered, changing the subject.

Helena had traded in her huntress costume for pink pjs with red and purple hearts on them. Soon her face matched the red hearts.

"It's like you came here just to annoy me!" she cried, "I need some sleep…"

"By all means, sleep." Question said, standing up and walking over to her closet, "I'll just get the roll away bed…"

"Oh no, no, no, no." Helena shook her head, "You're not staying here. Leave now!"

"So you'd turn a poor victim with a trashed apartment out into the cold night?" Question asked, still reaching on to the top ledge of the closet for the roll-away.

"Okay, okay." Helena conceded, "You can stay…but only for tonight. And you have to help me get Cassamento."

"It's a deal." Question declared, pulling down the bed and reaching to shake Helena's hand.

She reluctantly grasped the gloved hand, almost expecting a joy-buzzer, and shook weakly with a confused face.

"Oh yeah…Italians are more of a hug and kiss on both cheek greeting people, aren't they…"Question remembered, dropping her hand.

"Yeah…" Helena agreed, managing to shake and nod her head at the same time, "That's not gonna happen here…"

"Yeah…I kinda guessed that…" Question agreed, and proceeded to push the roll away bed past Helena, her bed and set it next to the window which was covered by blinds that looked as they had been forced closed by a frustrated Sicilian.

Helena closed the door to the hotel suite, and trudged tiredly to her bed and sitting up against it's back. She grabbed the remote and lowered the television's volume, hoping the white noise would lull her to sleep.

She looked over to see Question bending over next to his bed and rummaging through her suit case.

Helena would have yelled angrily, but was steadily running out of energy at this late hour due to jet-lag, so decided just to politely ask him.

"What the heck are you doing?"

Question stood up, holding the pill canister at eye level and looking it over, "These are illegal in the United States."

"So?" Helena asked, looking down into her palm and seeing two white pills still there, now sweaty. For effect, she opened her mouth and popped them in swallowing them without any water and coughing, "They're illegal in Sicily too."

Question replaced the orange container back into her suitcase and ventured over to the room service plate, lifting it to see the red wine stain.

"How many crimes to you plan to commit?" he asked, his tone of voice ambiguous to whether he was serious or kidding.

"Underage drinking…drugs….hmm……." Helena listed, counting on her fingers.

"Murder." Question added darkly.

Helena reached behind her and threw a pillow across the room so it landed straight in Question's face.

"A murder for a murder." She stated, equally as grim, "Cassamento would have gotten the death penalty if he had been convicted."

"But he wasn't." Question reminded, "Who are you to dole out justice?"

"Coming from a man without a face." Helena countered, not sure exactly how that fit but hoping it would cut deep.

"I have a face." Question shrugged, "I just guard it more carefully than you do. What was the point of the who Huntress persona if I, Cassamento and everyone in his gang already know who you are?"

Question returned to his rollaway bed and flopped down upon it, using the pillow that had been thrown at his to rest his head on.

Helena looked down at her feet folded crossed legged, matching her arms.

"Because…" she finally answered, "Because I am a huntress."

Question turned away from her, accepting the answer and facing the window.

"So you're just gonna go to sleep like that?" Helena asked, "In your coat and shoes and mask. You're one crazy guy."

When he didn't answer, Helena just shrugged and flipped the switch conveniently placed by her bed that killed the lights and left the room lit only by the blaring of the television playing a black and white movie.

* * *

Fading in and out of sleep, counting sheep and mulling over suspicious occurrences and possible Illuminati plans, Question was jerked back into reality _(whatever that means)_ by a increasingly sharp tug on the edges of his face.

He flung open his eyes that quickly adjusted to the darkness and found themselves staring up and the disgruntled but determined face of Helena.

"Just what is this mask made of?" she inquired angrily, "It's like it's connected to your face!"

"Get off of me!" Question grumbled, "If I wanted you to see my face, don't you think I would have removed it myself?"

"Fine!" Helena pouted stepping back, and sitting down on her bed facing him, "But it's not fair! You know who I am and since we're going to be working together, I think I should see your face too!"

"So you agree to working together…" Question gathered.

"I did? Huh? Wait?" Helena shook her head, trying to get a hold of her thoughts, "It must be those sleeping pills or something…"

She lay back, squirming onto her side so she could still see Question who had again turned the opposite direction.

"Whatever…I forgive you this time." He muttered, "Just don't try anything like that again."

"But I still have to know who you are!" Helena exclaimed.

"Look." Question responded, "Think of it this way. You don't _want_ to know who I am. Okay?"

"Ugh…" Helena rolled her eyes and pulled her covers over her again, turning her back to Question like he had done to her.

And after it had been quiet for a long time, just as she was seconds from drifting away…

"Good night." Question said.

Helena opened her eyes slowly and glanced at the digital clock sitting on top of the still shining TV which read in red numbers 2:10.

"It's morning…" she mumbled, closing her eyes again and this time going to sleep.

* * *

What if you reviewed this? Wouldn't that be wonderful, now wouldn't it.


	7. Confusion

Here's the chapter I hope whoever's reading this likes it and please review.

* * *

Helena was awoken by the sound of her door opening, she sat up in bed to see a cleaning lady carrying a vacuum into her suite and preparing to clean.

"Um…I'm still in here…" she told the woman.

"Lo siento!" the cleaning lady cried, backing out of the room and closing the door, "Sorry!"

"Ugh…what time is it?" Helena wondered.

She dragged the covers off of her and looked across to the TV, it had been turned off and the clock above it read 12:17pm. Question was no where to be found in the suite, and all Helena found was a scribbled note left on a wooden table against the wall.

Picking it up and bringing it to eye level, Helena tried to decipher the handwriting that was akin to a doctor's.

_Gone to find leads._

_Might be back today, might not. _

_Contact. _

"Just great!" Helena exclaimed, throwing her hands up, "He says we should work together, so of course, he leaves! And how am I supposed to contact him anyway! I don't have time for this!"

She crumbled the note and threw it into a near by trashcan, she didn't need him anyway. If Question wanted to go out on his own and do who know what, he could be her guest.

Helena decided to shower, get dressed and go get some breakfast...she looked back at the clock and revised her decisions; shower, clothes, lunch.

* * *

After a long night 'pal-ing around' with his favorite Mafioso Santo Cassamento, Wesley Fermin was happy to be a live a getting some sleep…even if it was at his desk. The fire in the nearby fireplace was blaring, and the room was dark. A pile of documents to sign served as a perfect pillow.

But then, almost like an alarm clock, Fermin was woken from his dreams by his aide, bursting into the office through the two wooden doors and shouting about something, as usual.

"Why must you always do this to me?!" Fermin demanded, sitting up straight and glaring at the aide, "Will you even, for once in your life, knock?"

"But this is important!" the aide declared, his glasses almost falling off his head.

"Okay, okay." Fermin sighed, resting and elbow on the desk, "Lay it on me."

"Your house has been broken into!" the aide announced.

"What!?" Fermin cried, standing up and running past his desk over to his aide, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him, "Tell me what happened! Who was it? How did they get past security? Were they caught?"

"No!" the aide exclaimed, "No one knows who it was, what happened or anything! A window was broken and stuff from your study was taken so your wife called the police! This information is still being investigated and hasn't been released to the public yet!"

"Go make sure it doesn't!" Fermin ordered, "I'm going to get to the bottom of this. I know exactly who broke in, it was that Vic Sage. I'm going to make him pay!"

Fermin and his aide ran out of the office.

* * *

The Bertinelli mansion, located not far from the first coal mine ever discovered near Hub City, was abandoned just like the mine it overlooked from a grassy green and overgrown hillside.

Its ornate decorations and imported antique furniture from Sicily were dusty and the wallpaper was peeling off the rotting wooden walls.

The mansion was empty except for two men exploring the property in the dark of its unlit halls, just like they had ten years ago the day the mansion's owners were murdered.

"So why didn't you let me kill that girl yesterday?" Mandragora asked. His white skin stood out in stark contrast from the gray and black of the mansion, his red and pink eyes seemed to gleam in the dim light.

"I told you she was of no threat." Cassamento stated.

As they walked, black foot prints were left in the floor's white dust and creaking from the wood echoed in their ears.

"She tried to kill you." Mandragora reminded.

"So she did." Cassamento replied, "But here I am alive."

"I see what it is." Mandragora laughed, "You killed her parents, but still couldn't finish the job. How noble of you, sparing the girl. Wasn't that Guido's last wish 'not my daughter'! Hahaha!"

There was a click and Mandragora felt the cold metal of a gun's barrel between his red eyes, which he then turned to look at Cassamento.

"There is no one here to plead for your life." Cassamento threatened, "Remember your place."

"Fine, fine!" Mandragora shrugged, "I would never turn on you like you did to the Bertinelli's. I am completely loyal."

Cassamento growled, but lowered his weapon, shoving it back into his black suit's pocket.

"Let's keep moving." He said.

Mandragora followed as Cassamento continued down the hall, venturing nearer and nearer too the wall and trailing his hand along it, picking up dust and spider webs.

"The reason I need Helena Bertinelli alive…." He began, "Is because there is a treasure. She inherited her family's fortune…but there was more than just money. There was something else…."

"What was it?" Mandragora asked.

"I don't know." Cassamento stated, "I only heard Guido mention it once when he thought I wasn't there. He said 'it' was locked away and no one would ever find it. He was holding a key."

"How do you know this is anything important?" Mandragora inquired, "It could have been nothing."

"But what if it was something!?" Cassamento shouted, "And if it was, I want it! I'm the leader of this gang and so I deserve to know all of its secrets! Guido loved his daughter like she was his son; he wanted her to take over the Cosca. I know he would tell her about whatever this was…"

"So if you're so sure she knows," Mandragora said, "Why did you have us run from her? We could have captured her? We could still capture her, she would not be hard to find."

"Because she will come to me." Cassamento declared, "Last night was not the right situation."

"Even so, why are we walking around this old house?" Mandragora asked, "If the Bertinelli girl can give us all the answers why are we looking all around?"

"Just keep looking." Cassamento grumbled, speeding up, "I don't have to explain everything to you. You work for me, we are not friends, remember that."

Mandragora snorted, he knew how bitter Cassamento was. It was known throughout the cosca that former leader, Guido Bertinelli and current leader Santo Cassamento were best friends growing up, until Guido became the leader after his father and Santo became quite jealous.

Mandragora had seen it all happen, he been 'sotto capo' since he was twenty six for, both Guido Bertinelli and his father and was quite happy with his station as second in command, even when Cassamento was co-underboss because of his friendship to Guido and wasn't. He had always been stronger, smarter and more attractive than his best friend (at least in his own opinion) and couldn't take being lesser than him.

But Mandragora wasn't like that and so with ambition no higher than his current post, he reveled in his power, got rich and stayed alive. He wasn't so sure on how long Cassamento was going to last.

* * *

Question was back at the coal factory that was now up and running again, searching the premises for anything that might be useful to him, when his phone vibrated. He pulled it out of his overcoat pocket and stared through his mask at the number.

It was Saturday, his day off, and the secretary from the TV studio was calling him from the office.

Normally, he just wouldn't answer, but she kept calling back each time he ignored the call, So Question finally decided to see what she wanted.

"Hello?" he asked into the phone.

"Vic!" the voice on the other end cried, "You have to come to the station now! The police are here! They're looking for you, they're saying you broke into the Mayor's house. They also say your apartment was broken into and trashed!"

With that, Question hung up the phone and quickly turned it off.

The police were looking for him and probably had already traced the call to his location. Question had to get out of the factory and hide somewhere, if he went to jail, he knew he would be done for.

Question ran out of the factory, past the machinery and its orange glow lighting the steel gray. Outside, the elderly homeless man greeted him, he was limping and was no longer carrying a bagged beverage. His clothes also looked cleaner and his beard less raggedy. Something about him had changed.

"Did you find what you were looking for, boy?" the man asked.

"No time." Question stated, brushing right past the vagabond.

"The flashing red and blue! The screeching sound!" the homeless man exclaimed, dropping to the pavement covering his ears and closing his eyes, "They're coming this way!"

"The police!" Question realized.

He looked around to see the red and blue bright in the distance against the gray of the factory buildings. He could hear sirens piercing the air.

They were close.

He had to hide.

"You're looking exceptionally clean today." Question commented, stopping and turning back to the man, "Would you care to exchange clothing…?"

* * *

The police car screeched to a halt next to dumpster and two men got out with the slams of doors punctuating their arrival. They surveyed the area and each lifted a walkie-talkie to their lips, uttering in codes and sparse phrases.

"No sign of him." The first said.

"I'll check over there." The second replied, pointing to an alley way.

The second police officer crept carefully into the alley which was dark even at 1:36 pm because there never was any sun in the sky to light it, being hidden behind clouds, and the street lights didn't go on until 7:00.

He saw a figure slumped over against a trashcan and reached instinctively for his standard issue, aiming it at the man as he drew nearer.

"Alright sir…." He began.

The man didn't stir.

"I'm going to have to ask you a few questions…" the cop continued, "…sir?"

Finally, the figure looked up, his face was hidden in the shadow cast by his tattered straw hat, "Wha--?"

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you a couple questions, alright?" the cop repeated.

"What? Questions?" the man barked, his voice slurring and rough "I don't wanna answer no questions! I didn't see nothing!"

"Please just answer what I ask you truthfully." The cop pleaded, "I don't want to have to bring you in?"

"Bring me in?" the man laughed hoarsely, " It would be an improvement from what I got here."

"All the same, just answer my questions." The police officer ordered.

"Alright, alright." The homeless man agreed, "I'll tell you everything."

"Did you see this man?" the cop asked, pulling out a recently printed picture of a person with red hair and brown eyes. It was Vic Sage.

"Nope. Never in my life." The man responded.

"Are you sure…?" the police officer asked again, "Would you like to take a closer look?"

"I will if you want me to, son, but I don't think that would do much good." The homeless man chuckled.

"Why?" the cop inquired.

"Why, sonny boy? Why you ask?" the man burst into a fit of laughter then continued, looking straight up at the cop eye to eye "I done lost my sight seventeen years ago. Why do you think I'm homeless, Mr. Police Officer? I can't get a job."

"Oh…uh…sorry…" the police officer fumbled, stepping back.

The cop turned and ran out of the alley, yelling to his partner that there was nothing to be found and then speaking into his radio once more. The police officers returned to their vehicles and drove off.

"Thanks?" Question asked.

He emerged from the trashcan the homeless man was leaning against.

"No trouble at all, I needed some excitement." The man responded, "When you said you wanted to try my clothes, I though why not try a trashcan instead. See what it's really like to be me. Hahaha. But why all that trouble? The picture the cop showed me didn't look like you, did it?"

"I don't know. I didn't see it." Question shrugged, "Could you see the picture? You said you were blind, was that true?"

"Ah yes, that is true." The homeless man sighed, throwing his head back to look up past his straw hat, "True as the sky is blue…that is if I could see the sky."

"So you are blind…" Question stated.

"Yes I am." The man declared, "But I can see better than a man with eyes…what about you?"

Question didn't answer; instead he just walked out of the alley, looking up at the cloudy, smoggy gray sky.

* * *

"I told you! We don't know nothing about no mafia!" a Brooklyn accent exclaimed.

All eyes and ears were turned to two dark haired Italian men, the 'Deluca Brothers', their wives, sister, grandmother and Joey Deluca's sixth month old infant in his wife's arms, who were backed up against the beige plaster wall of their Pizzeria while a masked and caped woman pointed a crossbow at them.

"And I told you!" Huntress screamed, "That if you don't tell me where Santo Cassamento is, something bad is going to happen to you."

"I really don't know this Cassamento person you are talking about!" Joey Deluca yelled fearfully, standing in front of his family, "We're from New York! Just moved here three years ago! Just cause we're Italian, don't mean we're in the Mafia or whatever. You've been watching too many TV show's girl!"

"He's right!" Mickey Deluca chimed in, "We're even part Scottish! We're not even all Italian. You've got the wrong guys! All we do is run this Italian-style Pizza Restaurant and you're disturbing the customers.

The Deluca Brothers gestured over to the eleven tables in the room, all occupied by people who were no longer enjoying their meals and instead were gaping in horror at the scene.

A waiter entered the room from the metal kitchen doors, unaware of the occurrence, carrying a silver tray with a full pizza on it on one flat hand next to his head.

Huntress reached over and snatched a slice, shoving it into her mouth but not moving her eyes or crossbow away from the Deluca Family.

"Good pizza…" she muttered, "Where were we?"

"You were…just about to leave?" Mickey suggested hopefully.

"Oh…right…" Huntress nodded, lowering her bow for a second and then bringing it straight back up and glaring, "Hey! No I wasn't! Nice try, wise guy! One more trick like that and something _really_ bad is gonna happen…"

"Are you…are you going to shoot us?" Karen Deluca cried, her baby joining her.

"What? Oh! No way!" Huntress laughed, "This bow is more for show anyway! I'm saving the last arrow for someone in particular…"

"Well if it's not us, can you please kindly leave our restaurant!" Joey shouted, pointing to the door.

"Not until I find out where Santo Cassamento is!" Huntress screeched.

"Ugh!" Joey and Mickey Deluca groaned, throwing their hands up, "I guess she's never leaving then because we DON'T KNOW!"

At that moment, Huntress's phone began to ring.

"Could you all hold on for just one moment?" she asked, pulled the phone from out of her purple belt and bringing it to her ear, "Hello?"

"Helena." Question's voice said on the other end.

"What do you want?" Huntress demanded, "And how did you get this number?"

"We need to meet." Question stated, ignoring Huntress's questions.

"I'm kind of busy right now, could you call back later?!" Huntress told him, annoyed.

"Remember that diner?" Question asked, still ignoring Huntress's words.

"Oh yeah…" Huntress remembered, "That place sucked."

"Be there." Question commanded, "Now."

"Hello?"

The line was silent.

"Oh he did NOT just hang up on me! That guy…." And Huntress's voice trailed off into inappropriate mutterings.

"Uh…we're still here!" Mickey Deluca reminded.

"Oh yeah! Change of plans!" Huntress addressed the Deluca's "We'll talk later! Now I have to go kick the butt of the person who hung up on me…bye!"

Huntress spun around, her cape flowing behind her and dashed out of the restaurant leaving the Deluca family to sigh in relief. All of the customers returned to their spaghetti and meatballs now that the scene was over and everyone acted as if nothing had happened.

* * *

Huntress stomped into Joe's 24 Hour Diner, right past the waitress she had met the last night and over to the same booth as the night before where a menu was place in front of a man's face she knew had to be Question.

"You again!" the waitress groaned recognizing the purple and black cape as it whipped by her, and following after Huntress to hand her a menu, "Take the menu!"

"I don't want it!" Huntress screeched, tossing the menu back at the middle-aged waitress, "Nothing on it is edible!"

Huntress sat down just as she had the last night, across from Question whose lack of face was hidden behind the menu. The waitress seated herself at the next booth, laying back on its bench and pulling out a cigarette, defying all regulations to gain back all the sanity she could when a woman in a costume and a man without a face were only a table away.

"What do you want?" Huntress asked question, "And why did we have to meet here?"

"Because my apartment was broken into." Question stated.

"I know, you told me yesterday." Huntress reminded.

"And now the mayor's house was broken into." Question continued.

"That's great news!" Huntress exclaimed, "You hate the mayor! He had it coming!"

"Well…not exactly…" Question countered, trying to figure out away to explain the situation without revealing his current identity, Vic Sage.

The waitress stood up from behind them and Huntress glared at the bow of her red apron that was causing her white shirt to ride up exposing her wrinkled and rolled back. She crossed the room, smoke still in hand, and grabbed a tiny remote from the counter and clicked on a hanging TV, sitting down on a stool to watch.

"…_.and that is proof that Hub City's mayor, Wesley Fermin, has something to hide. What it is, I will do everything in my power to find out and tell all of you concerned watchers out there who understand the dark hole of corruption this town has fallen into and want to bring us out..." _

Question stiffened. Even though he couldn't see the television from behind the menu, he recognized the voice.

Huntress watched the screen intently as the man with red hair on the screen kept talking. She began to giggle.

"What's so funny…!" Question demanded, already having an idea.

"That's…that's you!" Huntress chirped, hiding her smiling mouth behind one hand and using the other to point to the hanging TV, "It's you!"

"No…it's not…?" Question tried, but failed.

"I know it is!" Huntress declared, turning to face the menu covering Question's face, "You're pretty cute, you know that. Why are you hiding your face?"

Question peaked out from behind the menu, seeing Huntress grinning back at him with raised eyebrows.

"No way." He shook his head, realizing what she was thinking.

"Please!" Huntress pleaded, "Just take it off! Please, please, please! I won't tell anyone! I already know, I just have to see it in person!"

"Not going to happen." Question decided, pulling the menu right back up.

"Fine…" Huntress conceded, turning back to the Television.

"…_.That was Vic Sage…." _ A News Anchor stated.

"Ooh!" Huntress squealed, "Now I know your name too!"

Question only sighed, slapping his forehead. Why was the TV playing his show? It was what he said last night and he wasn't scheduled to go back on until Wednesday. He turned to watch.

"…_.Sage is wanted by the police for questioning about unspecified crimes. If you see this man, do not hesitate to contact the authorities." _

"Oh. My." Huntress coughed, "What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into?"

"Obviously unspecified crimes." Question replied, mimicking the anchor, "This is why we needed to meet."

"But why here?" Huntress asked, "Why not the hotel room?"

"At first I thought my apartment being broken into was Fermin's doing…" Question explained, "But now that his house was broken into as well, I think it's the mafia. You're hotel suite is probably already destroyed too by now. It's not safe to go back there."

"We have to!" Huntress cried, her eyes opening wide in worry behind her purple and black mask.

"Why?" Question asked, "It's too late."

"All my inheritance is an envelope in my suitcase there!" Huntress stated, "Over five million dollars in cash, we have to go back and get it."

"Why in the world you collect your inheritance in cash?" Question wondered, hopelessly.

Huntress shrugged in response.

"Fine." Question stood up, letting his menu flap to the table revealing his eye-less, nose-less, mouth-less face, "Let's go."

Huntress followed quickly after Question as they exited the diner once again.

* * *

Please review!


	8. The Hotel

Okay heres another chapter, I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

The lobby was grandiose enough to earn the hotel's five stars. Four expensive leather couches, streamlined and straight in the modern style, sat in a square surrounding a glass coffee table. Marble pillars were aesthetically positioned around the large room, as were concierge staff who were ready to be at the beck and call of any paying customer.

Dressed in the red and navy concierge uniform was Question who had somehow obtained not only a face, but a face quite different from the Vic Sage Huntress had seen earlier that day on the news.

Question was in the process of pushing a cart carrying multiple suitcases across the lobby and towards the elevators. He was preoccupied and annoyed by the hotel, it being another prime example of the corruption that plagued Hub City and the world. _But especially Hub. _

That gold trim on the concierge desk,_ actually brass. _

The glass table_, window plastic._

_And the marble was only polished wallpaper. _

It wasn't like the hotel couldn't afford the real things; quite on the contrary actually, it could afford much more than that. But the owners were greedy, so underpaid their workers, faked their luxury items, _and swam in a green sea_. They had also recently bought out most of the other competitor hotels, motels and bed&breakfasts in Hub and were continuing to expand past the city.

_But the leather was real. _Cheaply imported, _but real. _

Question was sure that the hotel's owners sudden ability to buy out competition was linked to a rise of livestock trafficking in Asia. They must have sponsored a corrupt cattle farm to grow and so received masses of cow hide in return, among other trading benefits.

Question's train of thought was interrupted by Huntress. She was hidden in an oversized suitcase in order to be smuggled into the hotel she was staying so she could retrieve her envelope of inheritance without Mafia involvement.

"Are we there yet?"

"No. We're still in the lobby." Question whispered to the suitcase as he pushed the cart along.

"It's cramped in here and I'm sweating." Huntress complained from inside, "Let me out. Now."

At first, the idea of sneaking into the hotel inside a suitcase sounded brilliant to Huntress. She had thought of it, of course. But now she was beginning to regret her decision. Huntress had no idea how uncomfortable it would be inside the bag, or how awful it would smell. And it was taking too long for Question to push the cart to her room.

"Can't do that." Question refused.

"Then I'm getting out myself!" Huntress declared, her voice muffled by the suitcase. But before she could make a move, Question jolted the cart so that the bag with Huntress inside shifted.

"Sorry." Question apologized, a laugh barley masked, "We went over a bump."

"You did that on purpose!" Huntress accused, trying to stretch and make herself comfortable and failing miserably, "I'll get you back for that, just you wait!"

"Be quiet." Question said flatly, "We're almost to the elevators."

Question rolled the cart with the bag full of an angry Huntress into the shiny-doored elevator. Once the doors had closed behind them, he asked; "What floor again?"

"39." Huntress answered, "Can I get out now?"

"No." Question replied, pressing the button "And it's 38 actually, this hotel skips the 13th floor."

"Whatever." Huntress groaned as she felt the elevator rise.

There was silence until the ping of the elevator reaching their destination. Question pushed the cart out of the elevator, looking both ways down the long yellow striped hallway before continuing to roll the cart down the hall towards Huntress's room.

Once inside, he shut and locked the door behind them.

"Finally!" Huntress exclaimed, bursting out of the suitcase as fast as she could, "What took you so long?!"

"I had to scout out the hotel for potential threats." Question stated as he walked past her and into the main area of the room, "The only way to do that without looking suspicious was to push the cart around."

Huntress followed Question and then began to root through her still unpacked suitcase for the envelope of money.

"Did you find any?" she asked as she searched.

"Yes." Question replied as he stood and watched, "There are always potential threats. As for actual threats, I didn't see any, but—"

"Found it!" Huntress declared happily, jumping up, cape flowing around her.

"That's surprising." Question commented, scanning the area, "This room's been trashed. Check the envelope to make sure it's all there."

"It's not trashed." Huntress countered, sitting down on the bed to count the cash in the envelope, "This is just the way I left it."

"Exactly." Question explained, folding his arms and gesturing towards the clock above the TV, "It's 2:34. They clean at twelve. Someone must have broken in here around then and put the room back they way they found it."

"If they did, why didn't they take the money?" Huntress inquired, closing the envelope and turning to Question, "It's all here."

"Because they weren't after the money." Question answered, "Was there anything else you had that would be of particular interest to Cassamento or anyone breaking in here?"

"I don't think anyone broke in here…" Huntress began as she stood before trailing off, "…the key."

"A key?" Question repeated, walking over to her.

"Yeah, there was this key in my inheritance that was kept in safe deposit box." Huntress told him, "I got it when I got the money…but I don't know what it goes to."

"But the mafia might." Question replied, "And who knows what that is and now they have key! How could you let this happen!?"

He was currently imagining all the possible terrible things that they key could unlock, dangerous weapons, cursed treasures…

"You can't blame this on me!" Huntress screeched, throwing her hands up, "It was just a stupid key. It probably doesn't even do anything! You---"

Huntress was interrupted by Question clamping a hand over her mouth, creating a silence in which both could hear footsteps approaching.

"Hide now." Question whispered.

Huntress dove under the bed and Question jumped into the closet, holding the door closed. Weak hiding places, but the best they could do on short notice. They kept still where they were and listened as the door was unlocked slowly and someone entered the room.

Huntress was about to leap out and attack whoever it was, hoping it was Cassamento so she could finally kill him, when she heard a vacuum cleaner turn on.

Both she and Question breathed heavy sighs of relief and exited from their hiding spaces to see a woman bent over and struggling with a persistent stain on the floor. She didn't hear Question and Huntress and they crept out of the room and into the hallway.

Once in the hallway, Huntress turned to Question to see he wasn't disguised as a concierge anymore and was in his usual costume. The face he had been using was gone. She raised an eyebrow and shook her head in bewilderment and Question just shrugged in response.

"What now?" Huntress asked.

"We have to get that key back." Question decided, "We have to go to where Cassamento is and steal it back from him."

"You know where he lives?!" Huntress demanded, "Why didn't you tell me?! If I had known, he'd be dead by now and we wouldn't have to be worrying about some stupid key!"

"No, I don't know where he lives." Question corrected.

"Then how---"Huntress was again interrupted by footsteps.

This time multiple, pounding sets of feet were running towards where she and Question stood. Voices of people talking in Italian were also audible.

"What are they saying?" Question asked, turning to Huntress.

"They're going to kill us." Huntress answered, turning to Question.

Both nodded at each other and began to run, they passed the elevators because they didn't have time to wait, and continued on towards the stairs and hopefully to safety.

* * *

"Stop!" Mandragora ordered in Italian, standing in front the three mafia goons accompanying him and blocking their path, "Do you hear that? Two are running."

"Two?" one of the goons asked, "Who is she with?"

"It doesn't matter, capture them both." Mandragora commanded and started to run again with the three men following him.

When they got into the main hallway, Mandragora broke away from the men and ran in the other direction towards Huntress's room.

"Where are you going?" another goon asked, looking back at Mandragora as he continued in the direction he and the other two were going.

"Keep after them!" Mandragora shouted, "I'm going to cut them off!"

The three goons kept running and when they had made it into the stairs, Mandragora slowed down into a stroll and entered Huntress's hotel room where a woman unaware of him was cleaning the bathroom.

Caressing his brass knuckle with his other hand, Mandragora smiled slammed the door to the bathroom shut with his foot causing the cleaner to look up and gasp in fear.

* * *

Dashing down the gray metal stairs as fast as they could, Question and Huntress still managed to speed up when they heard clamping footsteps behind them once again.

"There's one less." Question commented, getting increasingly tired, "The last one must have gone to head us off."

"So you think he's at the bottom of the stairs?" Huntress asked, she looked down over the railing as she ran.

"We still have sixteen floors to go." Question responded, beginning to run out of breath, "He certainly has time to get there."

"Let's go another way." Huntress suggested, pointing at an oncoming door to a floor of the hotel.

"Good idea." Question agreed.

They rushed to the door and Question pulled it open quickly, closing it behind him by leaning against it once he and Huntress had gone through. He attempted take deep breaths but was foiled by a foul and suffocating smell.

"A smoking floor…" he muttered, "Just great."

Huntress who had continued to run down the hallway when she had come through the door, stopped and looked back at Question who was still resting against the door.

"Hurry up!" she called, "Or did you forget people were chasing us?!"

"Just…one more minute." Question pleaded, holding on hand up in a stopping motion as he saw Huntress approaching.

"No way!" Huntress exclaimed, grabbing the hand and pulling Question along as she restarted running, "Let's go!"

"Ow…" Question, who did not enjoy being dragged, complained lamely as he clutched his side with his free hand.

"You're out of shape!" Huntress laughed, quickening their pace and tugging extra hard on his arm, "I told you I'd get you back for trapping me in that bag so long!"

"Let's just find away out of here." Question conceded.

Although he searched the streets for the seeds of corruption, most of his costumed activities didn't involve long distance, high speed chases on foot through hotels. So, he couldn't disagree with what Huntress had said.

"There's a way out through the hotel's restaurant." Huntress recalled, "We can get out the kitchen!"

Huntress lead Question into another elevator with a different route than the ones in the lobby. She pressed the button with her free hand and it began to descend, taking her and Question to street level.

Question coughed semi-discretely, his free making a fist to cover his mouth.

"Oh!" Huntress gasped, quickly releasing his hand, "Sorry!"

"It's fine." Question replied quietly.

The rest of the ride down was silent.

When the elevator doors open, Huntress and Question found themselves across from an elegant dinning area that was mostly bare of patrons at this off hour, but full of waiters and waitresses changing the white table cloths, candles and flowers on the dark wood tables.

"There." Huntress stated, pointing to white kitchen doors, "Come on."

She hurried towards the doors, Question right behind her, and pushed them open, entering into the kitchen.

Cooks and busboys looked up briefly from whatever they were doing to see the two strangely dressed people come into the room, but made no moves to prevent them from walking right in and soon went right back to their tasks, paying the two no attention.

"They don't ask questions." Huntress explained in a whisper as she and Question past the sinks and ovens on their way to the back door, "All they ask is nice tip."

She pulled out her envelope of money and handed a thousand dollar bill to the waiter standing next to the door. He smiled and accepted the money, opening the door for Huntress and Question and bowing slightly as they passed through.

"Corruption." Question commented, shaking his head, once they were outside on the gray street.

"Oh lighten up." Huntress countered, "They've got families and the hotel barely pays them anyway."

"At least we're out of there." Question responded, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Yeah, thanks to corruption." Huntress grinned.

Question just sighed.

* * *

The three mafia goons, who had continued stomping down the stairs unaware that who they were perusing had exited the stairwell, finally reached the bottom of the metal staircase and opened the door to the lobby to find Mandragora standing there.

"Did you get them?!" they asked.

"You mean you didn't?!" Mandragora demanded, red eyes flaring.

"We chased them down the stairs!" a goon declared, "They should have come out this door!"

"They must have went on to another floor and escaped by now!" Mandragora roared, "You let them get away!"

He and the two other goons began to back away from Mandragora who was advancing, already bloody brass knuckle at the ready.

"We could still catch them!" one goon tried.

"I'm afraid you three won't get that opportunity." Mandragora sneered

* * *

Question realized then that he had never in his life been so relieved to see the dulled hues of Hub City's buildings and streets and the black-gray smog filling the sky. The bright yellows and golds of the inside of the hotel, all falsities of what they pretended to be, had been more a symbol of the city' sham than the washed out grays of the concrete and smoke.

_Because just like the orange fire inside the coal-factory creates the gray smoke on the outside, corruption itself comes from the inside despite the outward appearance._

"We shouldn't stick around here anymore." Huntress reminded, "Cassamento's guys could still be in the area."

She and Question were still standing on the street right outside the hotel's kitchen.

"Right." Question agreed, "We need to put as much distance as we can between us and the hotel."

"Well I'm not leaving this city until Santo Cassamento is dead." Huntress declared.

"And I'm not leaving until Wesley Fermin's kicked out of the mayor's office and Hub is free from the contamination of him and the mafia." Question added, "So skipping town is out of the question but we still need somewhere to regroup."

"I'm not going back to that diner." Huntress warned, anticipating where Question would suggest, a dangerous look in her eyes.

"…Let's just take a cab then." Question decided, "We can go to the other side of town and figure out what to do."

"I know what I'm going to." Huntress reminded, "Kill Cassamento."

"Yeah but you don't know where he is yet." Question countered, "We still have to find that out."

He watched the street, moderately full of vehicles but moving at a steady pace. Once a taxi came into view, he waved and it pulled up to the curb so that he and Huntress could get in.

Once they were inside, the driver turned around to face them, surprisingly not surprised by their outfits and Question's lack of face.

"Just drive." Huntress commanded, "We'll tell you where to go once we're far away from here."

"Oh I know where you're going." The driver said in a heavy accent, turning back around and driving car quickly away from the hotel's curb, "Straight to Don Cassamento."

Question pulled on the door handle but there was a thudding click and he knew they were locked in. He then pressed the button the roll down the window, but the window went right back up and closed.

"What the hell?!" Huntress exclaimed, pounding on the driver's seat in front of her, "Let us out!"

"I will when we reach our destination." The driver laughed and turned the taxi on to the highway, speeding up to match and then exceed the surrounding traffic.

Question stared out the window, watching the other cars pass by and then looked back at the driver whose face was visible through the mirror.

"Stop the car and let us out or I'll shoot!" Huntress yelled, pulling out an aiming her crossbow at the driver.

"If you shoot me now, this car will crash and we'll all die." The driver retorted, "So I'd put that down if I were you. Besides, everyone knows you're saving that arrow to avenge your poor dead mommy and daddy."

Huntress reluctantly lowered her weapon and glared at the driver silently.

"Oh sorry." The driver apologized sarcastically as he sped down the highway, "Didn't mean to hurt your feelings, orphan girl."

"Just shut up." Huntress muttered, turning away from the driver and gazing out the window, "I'll kill you too once I'm done with Cassamento."

The driver just chuckled cruelly then continued to drive the now silent cab.

"Hey, could you turn on the radio or something?" Question asked, leaning back in his seat, breaking the silence, "I think it's almost time for my favorite program."

"I guess you're gonna miss it today, buddy." The driver replied after a pause, quite taken aback by Question's request.

"Ah, that's too bad…" Question sighed, "But I guess that's just life, isn't it."

The drive didn't respond, instead he just looked back at Question through the mirror with a confused and annoyed expression.

"So, why are you taking us to Cassamento, anyway?" Question continued, "I mean you're obviously not in the mafia and don't work for him, does he even know you're coming?"

Huntress glanced away from the window and at Question, wondering what he was talking about.

"Who says I'm not in the mafia?" the driver demanded sharply, "What are you on about?"

"It's your accent." Question answered as if it was the most apparent thing in the world, "Not only is it exaggerated and faked, varying in intensity and pitch, but it's also the wrong kind of accent. I mean, yours is taken from Brooklyn with a little Rome sprinkled in, probably because those are the most common forms found in movies so the easiest to access and copy. But, the accents of the mafia here in hub are from the Sicily region of Italy, not Rome and don't have any New York in them at all. In fact, most grunt members, which you're pretending to be, barely have an accent at all so you've got your act down all wrong."

"Very clever." The driver admitted angrily.

"Oh I'm not done yet." Question stated, "What really gave you away was your reaction to me. Sure, Cassamento probably told everyone in the cosca what Helena was wearing, but they have no idea who I am or that I happened to be with her at the moment you picked us up."

"They know more than you think, Vic Sage." The driver interrupted, looking through his mirror back at Question, "Santo Cassamento is quite perceptive, he, like you, sees things that normally go unnoticed. He realized there was a reason that a simple coal miners union became a mafia, and a reason why it couldn't expand beyond Hub City and he's been working to find those reasons since much before he killed Guido Bertinelli and took control of his gang..."

At the mention of her father's name, Huntress's fist clenched.

She hated being this vulnerable. She was trapped in a speeding car going to places unknown, listening to two people talking about something that involved her but she didn't understand, and she couldn't do anything about it. She was completely at the mercy of the driver with no way to fight back without it being counterproductive which already caused her enough distress, and now being reminded of her parents' murders only made things worse.

So she clenched her fist because it was all she could do not to cry, which then would have made things even worse.

Knowing the nature of the discussion he and the driver were having, Question turned to Huntress to see that she was indeed having a hard time listening to it. But she wasn't crying and it didn't look as if she was holding any tears back either. So she was taking it better than Question would have guessed a young woman, in a country she hadn't been in for years, in the city her parents had been murdered in front of her in, that had come to kill a man, maybe more, without a plan, would.

Huntress sensed Question looking at her and turned to look at him, a glare still in her eyes, but quickly looked away finding a blank, expressionless face the opposite of comforting and assuming he was analyzing her or something like that.

The driver, who had still been talking the entire time, looked back from the road to see that Question wasn't really paying attention his words.

"Hey are you listening?" he barked.

"No, it got boring." Question replied flatly, "Are you sure you can't turn on the radio?"

"I said no." The driver refused.

"Turn on the radio." Huntress joined in, kicking the driver's seat.

Before she or Question could say anything else, the cab swerved sharply off the highway and sped towards an area full of warehouses. It didn't bother them until they saw that the driver was driving the taxi steadily towards the brick wall of one of the warehouses with no indication of turning or stopping.

"What are you doing?!" Huntress exclaimed, "We're going to crash! You'll die too!"

"It's time for you to be quiet now!" the driver declared, laughing maniacally and he accelerated towards the wall.

"Get down!" Question shouted pushing Huntress onto the floor of the car and then doing the same thing himself.

The last thing heard was the driver's laughter and then the crash.

* * *

Please review!


	9. Crazy

Here's another chapter posted, I hope you all like it!

* * *

Wesley Fermin was in a meeting with the City Council when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Upon checking the number, fear sent a shiver through his body.

"I'm sorry, but if you'll excuse me, I must take this call." Fermin apologized, standing up from the meeting table and walking quickly out of the room, "It's urgent."

Once in the hallway, Fermin opened the phone as fast as he could so as not to make the caller have to call back.

"Hello?" he greeted cautiously.

"Mayor Wesley Fermin." The voice of Santo Cassamento replied emanated from the phone, "My good friend and associate Steven Mandragora came upon a murder victim, a cleaning lady at a hotel, as well as three dead men in the stairwell of that same hotel. Luckily, he knows exactly who killed those four unfortunate people. Get it to the police and to the news that a Helena Bertinelli is on a killing spree and needs to be apprehended at all costs. Once she is caught, you are to send her directly to me. Got it?"

"Yes sir." Fermin agreed, "I'll do that right away."

"Good man." Cassamento thanked, "Now you can get back to whatever trivial task you were involved in when I called you."

The phone clicked as Cassamento hung up and Fermin, once he was sure no one could hear him, called the police commissioner and told him what to do.

* * *

First only a dull hum.

Then a metallic silver color, faded gray.

Huntress's eyes opened slowly as she lifted her head up from the steel to see a tall and wide figure standing before her, coming into focus. Once her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, she saw that the figure was all white; skin, suit, hair, all except for his pink-red eyes.

"Mandragora." She spat, her own brown eyes glaring into his through her mask.

"I trust you've slept well." Mandragora chuckled, clasping his hands together, brass knuckle shinning.

Huntress tried to get up from the surprisingly warm metal chair she was seated in, but found she was handcuffed to the table.

"I don't know how I got here…" she began, tugging sharply and the chains holding her down, "But I'm getting out of here and when I do, I'll kill you and your boss Cassamento! Where is that bastard anyway!? He couldn't face me himself!? Tell him to get in here and fight!"

"I'm afraid Don Cassamento is busy at the moment." Mandragora apologized sarcastically, sitting down in the chair across from Huntress at the table, "So you're going to have to make due with me."

* * *

"I assume we're in one of the coal factories." Question said, sitting up straight from where he had previously been face down on a metal table, "Quite far from where the crash took place, which does make me wonder that cab drivers ruse was all about. "

Santo Cassamento turned to face Question when he heard him speak. He had been looking in the opposite direction so he could turn around dramatically when his prisoner awoke.

"I don't know anything about a crash or taxi driver…" Cassamento started, "But what makes _me_ wonder is why we keep running into each other."

Question didn't reply to what Cassamento said. The last time he had seen the mafia boss was when he was pretending to be a janitor and got beat up by Mandragora and some other goons. Cassamento had never seen his face, or lack thereof.

"You think I do not know it was you that night dressed as a janitor?" Cassamento scoffed, walking closer to the table, "Or you outside the factory as that homeless man?"

That was interesting, Question thought to himself. Cassamento thought he was the crazy, blind homeless man that lived in the alley between two of the coal factories.

"So tell me, faceless man," Cassamento continued, "Why all the disguises? Why the interest in my business?"

"Just curious, I guess." Question shrugged.

"Tell me!" Cassamento shouted, pounding the table, "I'm tired of you Illuminati spies influencing my cosca, always sneaking around, trying to screw me over! You want the treasure, don't you? I know you were working with Guido Bertinelli to hide it, that's why I killed him but spared that brat of his! And the day she shows up trying to kill me, you show up, then the next day, you and her are found knocked out right on my doorstep as if delivered? You think I wouldn't connect the dots? You're obviously trying to get the treasure, but you won't! It's mine, I have the key!"

Cassamento pulled a silver key out of his pants pocket and dangled it in front of Question's featureless face. Instinctively, Question tried to reach up and grab it, but was unable to because he was handcuffed to the table.

"Ah, ah, ah." Cassamento scolded, wagging a finger and returning the key to his pocket before returning to his original standing place in the metal walled room, "You're never getting that key, you illuminati trash. And the only reason I'm even revealing my knowledge of it is because you're going to die anyway, that is, after you tell me all about the treasure and what your group was doing with Guido."

"I'm not telling you anything." Question stated, deciding to go along with Cassamento thinking that he was an illuminati agent and see how much he could learn.

"Voluntarily, of course not." Cassamento laughed, "You illuminati are notoriously hard to break. That's why I plan to employ 'other methods'."

Cassamento snapped his finger and the steel door opened and two men walked into the room carrying a large and extremely heavy tub between them.

"Tungsten, melting point three thousand four hundred and ten degrees Celsius." Cassamento explained as the men struggled to lift the tub onto the table, "That's six thousand some degrees Fahrenheit, since you are American. It's most notable uses are in lightbulbs, or for strengthening steel as we use it here, but I've found a better use; torture."

The two men finally managed to set the tub on the table and then left the room, closing the door again. A small droplet of white liquid flew out and hit the metal table, burning a hole through it instantly. Question tried his best to back away from the hole and the melted tungsten, itself but again was hindered by the handcuffs.

"The only thing cold enough to hold melted tungsten is this liquid nitrogen insulated carrier." Cassamento informed, gesturing to the tub, "Very expensive and only accessible through the military. It took all of my good friend Mayor Fermin's favors to get this. Now, shall we get started?"

Looking at the damage the melted metal could do, Question was starting to regret playing along with Cassamento's theory that he was part of the Illuminati. He had no idea how to get out of this, he didn't have the information Cassamento wanted, he didn't have time to get out of the handcuffs without being burned in the process and the liquid contained in the tub could likely kill him with it's touch witch was Cassamento's plan to begin with, whether he gave him the information or not.

But that's when Question remembered Huntress. Where was she? Was she being threatened with six thousand degree Fahrenheit metal as well?

"Where's Helena Bertinelli?" Question asked, trying to bide some time.

"I'm the one asking the questions!" Cassamento countered then calmed his anger, a smirk returning to his face, "But because you asked so nicely, I'll tell you. She's down the hall being dealt with by associate as we speak."

"Good." Question replied, his answer causing Cassamento raise an eyebrow in confusion.

"Good?" he repeated, moving closer to Question and looking at him strangely.

"Yes, good." Question affirmed, "The rooms in this hallway are all alike, first built in twenties during the golden age of mafia activity as storage for illegal alcohol. No one asked any questions because factories were expanding all over due to the industrial revolution so construction in these coal factories didn't seem suspicious at all, plus the mafia still had the mayor in their pocket even then. But during the eighties, these rooms were reconverted to interrogation rooms by you because you had just recently gained control of the gang and had to test loyalties and punish those who betrayed you. And still today they are interrogation rooms."

"Very interesting history lesson." Cassamento commented, "But it offers no explanation to why you say it's 'good'."

"I was getting that." Question stated, "It's good because all these rooms are the same. Table, handcuffs and all. You don't know Helena Bertinelli. Handcuffs and a whale with a brass knuckle aren't going to stop her. I predict it'll be only a matter of minutes, seconds maybe, that she comes right through those doors to kill you."

"With what weapon?" Cassamento laughed, "She was unarmed when we found her, as were you, so even if she does come to kill me, she won't be able to do it with her bare hands."

"You'd be amazed what she can do." Question warned, trying to keep the conversation going.

He was hoping his theory of Huntress's escape was correct, and there was a sixty percent chance it was. But even if he was wrong he had to keep Cassamento distracted from interrogating and torturing long enough so that the tungsten would harden again, which would by him more time to get out.

"I saw just as you did." Cassamento disagreed, "She couldn't kill me when she had her arrow pointed right at me. What makes you think today would be any different?"

"Because." Question declared.

"Because why?" Cassamento asked.

"Because." Question said again.

"Because why?!" Cassamento asked again, rage and irritation growing.

"Just because." Question shrugged.

"BECAUSE WHY!?" Cassamento yelled, throwing his hands up in fury.

"I said just because." Question repeated.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself before he completely lost control, Cassamento strode over to Question and grabbed him by the collar, lifting him as high as the handcuffs would allow.

"I'm going to ask you again." He whispered, glowering into Question's eyeless face, "Because why?"

"Because." Question answered.

* * *

"Where's the treasure?!" Mandragora roared for the umpteenth time, pounding the metal table separating him from Huntress.

"I don't even know what you're talking about." Huntress snapped for the umpteenth time.

Mandragora growled under his breath. Secretly, he was in accordance with Huntress's statement, but as long Cassamento said there was a treasure, he had to act like he believed him and so interrogate the answer out of the prisoner before him.

"You must be under some orders not hurt me." Huntress taunted, "I remember you wanted 'to see my blood' the other night but Cassamento stopped you. That must have pissed you off real bad, huh Mandragora? Do you still wanna see it? Cassamento's not here, I won't tell…"

Mandragora rolled his pink eyes. He knew she was just trying to bait him and he certainly wasn't going to fall victim to some barely of age little girl. Helena Bertinelli was obviously just like her mother, who had always tried something sneaky in order to get Guido to fire him.

"Tell me, _Moby Dick_, why do you like blood? Is it a_ fetish_?" Huntress kept at it.

Mandragora clenched his fists, brass knuckle digging into the skin of his right hand. Enough was enough. All Cassamento had told him to do was get the location of what the key was to. He didn't say how.

"Let me tell you a little something about blood..." Mandragora sneered, standing up from his metal chair.

He then proceeded to grab the steel table that was bolted to floor, pick it up and throw it across the room. Huntress, who was still attached to the table via handcuffs, flew across the room with it, hitting the wall. Mandragora began to walk towards her, a growing white contrast against the dark gray walls behind him.

"Oh I know all about blood." Huntress stated, standing up and easily breaking off her handcuffs.

The metal table lay on its side in front of her, legs facing towards the approaching Mandragora. Huntress delivered a powerful kick to the table, sending it soaring at Mandragora. It hit him square in the stomach, throwing him against the opposite wall and pinning him in, at least temporarily.

Wasting no time, Huntress dashed out of the metal interrogation room and down the hall. She had to find Cassamento and kill him finally, even if she had to use her feet and fists.

* * *

"Enough of your Illuminati lies!" Cassamento roared, punching Question in the face and then stomping over to the tub of melted tungsten, "Time for you to tell the truth!"

Just as Question thought it was all over for him and that his quest to rid Hub City of corruption would never be completed, Huntress kicked down the door and ran into the room.

"Right on time." Question sighed thankfully, then shook the chains on his handcuffs, "Could you get me out of these?"

"Yeah, sure." Huntress agreed, throwing a kick at Cassamento, "Just as soon as I kill him."

"You think you can kill me?" Cassamento chuckled, dodging the kick and backing up away from Huntress.

"I know I can kill you!" Huntress snarled, running towards Cassamento, purple cape flowing behind her.

Question was still, much to his annoyance, seated in the metal chair at the metal table right across from a tub of boiling metal that could very well spill all over him if the fight between Huntress and Cassamento knocked one of them into the table.

Question stood up and began the tedious process of wriggling out of the handcuffs.

Meanwhile, Huntress was finally able to hit Cassamento without him being able to dodge and punched him in the stomach which forced him back against the wall. But once Huntress got close enough to continue her attack, Cassamento grabbed her shoulders in order to push her down. Before he could do so, Huntress grabbed his shoulders and the two struggled, both trying to throw the other to the floor.

"You're dead." Huntress declared.

"Where's the treasure?!" Cassamento demanded.

"What treasure?!" Huntress screamed, annoyed. First Mandragora and now Cassamento were both asking about a treasure and she really didn't know what it even was, let alone where it was and it was really beginning to tick her off.

"He thinks your dad and the illuminati were hiding some kind of treasure!" Question explained, finally free of the handcuffs, "That's why he stole the key!"

"Well he's crazy then!" Huntress replied, still shoving Cassamento.

Question rushed over to where Huntress and Cassamento were but Huntress turned to him shook her head.

"No, it's between me and him." She said, "I have to kill him all on my own!"

With all her strength Huntress pushed Cassamento to the ground and prepared to kick him.

"You're in the illuminati too!" Cassamento accused, jumping up at Huntress and knocking her down then gripping her neck, "You two are in it together! The illuminati is always out to ruin my plans! You're trying to get the treasure before I do!"

"I told you I don't know anything about any treasure!" Huntress screeched, kicking Cassamento off before he was able to strangle her.

Cassamento clutched his stomach and staggered back away from Huntress, coughing blood into his free hand. Huntress strained to raise herself off the floor, rubbing her sore neck. The two looked locked eyes, glaring and started to go towards each other to continue to fight.

Question walked between them and faced Huntress.

"I told you stay out of it!" Huntress rasped.

"This fight isn't going anywhere." Question stated, "We should just—"

"Behind you!" Huntress interrupted, pointing.

Question looked behind him just in time to see Cassamento jump on top of him and begin to punch him.

"Damn you Illuminati!" he barked as he pounded both fists into Questions back.

"He's insane!" Question choked, trying to shake Cassamento off.

"You just realized that?!" Huntress responded.

She ran at Question and Cassamento, pulling the latter off the former and throwing him against the table. As Cassamento struggled to get up, the tub filled with melted tungsten fell over and the contents poured towards him.

"No!" he cried, watching the metal spill closer yet unable to escape.

"What is that?" Huntress asked, watching the white liquid travel across the table, destroying it in the process.

"Liquid tungsten." Question answered, moving to stand next to Huntress and also watching, "Six thousand degrees approximately."

"Oh." Huntress said flatly.

The two watched the metal pour over Cassamento as he howled in pain. When he was quiet, Huntress and Question nodded to each other and left the room.

* * *

Question and Huntress ran out the doors of what was indeed a coal factory and found themselves in the darkness of night. They continued to run, hoping to get away from the factories so that none of Cassamento's goons would be able to come after them once they realized what had happened.

"God, I had no idea Cassamento was so crazy." Huntress stated, as they ran, "I mean, he thought we were in the illuminati and there was some kind of treasure or something. Everyone knows the illuminati is just a myth."

"Is it?" Question countered, turning to Huntress, "Or is that just what they want you to think?"

"Whatever." Huntress said, rolling her eyes, "At least Cassamento's finally dead."

"How does it feel?" Question inquired, "The man who murdered your parents is dead. You've finally gotten your revenge."

"It feels…anti-climactic." Huntress admitted, looking down at the outline of her moving feet.

"That's because this isn't over yet." Question replied ominously. He reached into his pocket and pulled out something that glinted off the light coming from a streetlamp, "The key. I got it from Cassamento when he jumped on me. What if there is a treasure…or something."

"Whether there is or isn't, I don't care." Huntress declared, "Keep the key, I don't want it. Go search for the lost treasure of the Illuminati if you want. But my job is done here. Now that Cassamento's dead, I'm going back to Sicily."

"…Oh…" Question acknowledged, returning the key to his pocket.

They continued to run in silence past all the coal factories until they saw two figures standing in the distance under a streetlight, conversing. One turned to look at Huntress and Question approaching which caused them to recognize his face.

"It's that cab driver!" Huntress exclaimed, fists clenching, "Let's get him!"

The taxi driver, realizing he had been identified, turned and began to run into an alley between two of the coal factories. The person he was talking too followed him as did Huntress and Question several yards behind.

"Get back here!" Huntress yelled, speeding up, "You were all talk in that taxi, why don't you come over here and back it up!"

The driver paid no heed to Huntress's words and continued to flee the two costumed people chasing him and his companion. Just as Huntress and Question were about to catch up to them, they ran out of the alley and into the street, dodging cars and making it across. But before Question and Huntress were able to, a police car rolled up and blocked the alleyway's exit.

Two police officers exited their vehicle, guns and flashlights drawn and approached Huntress and Question, blinding them with light.

"Remove the masks immediately." One ordered.

Huntress and Question began to back away from the policemen, wondering what they should do.

"Get on the ground with your hands up!" the other policeman added, he and his fellow officer coming closer, "Helena Bertinelli we know it's you. You're under arrest for the murder of four people!"

"What?!" Huntress exclaimed, continuing to back away "I never killed four people!"

"Don't try to reason with them." Question told her, also still backing away, "The police are in Fermin's pocket. Cassamento probably had him frame you!"

"How dare you talk about the mayor that way!" the first police officer shouted, "You're under arrest too, whoever you are!"

"On the count of three let's run." Huntress decided, turning to Question, "One…"

"Get on the ground now!" the police officer repeated. The police officers then both rushed towards Huntress and Question.

"No. Run now." Question said and then grabbed Huntress by the arm and started to run back they way they had come, pulling her along after him.

The policemen threw down their flashlights chased after them, shooting but missing in the dark as they dashed through the alley.

"We should split up!" Huntress suggested, "They're only after me, you don't need to risk getting shot."

"No, we're staying together." Question refused, "Besides, he said I was under arrest too."

"All available officers to the coal factories." One police officer shouted into his walkie-talkie, "We are in pursuit of a suspect wanted for a multiple homicide and her accomplice who insulted the mayor."

"Great." Huntress complained, "Now they're calling all the cops here, we'll be arrested for sure. This was supposed to be the best day of my life, finally killing Cassamento and avenging my parents but instead I'm wanted for four murders I didn't even commit!"

"We need to turn around." Question stated.

"What?" Huntress replied, taken aback, "If we turn around we'd be running right towards them! We'll get shot!"

"Exactly." Question affirmed and swung himself and Huntress, who he still had by the arm, around so that they were heading straight towards their pursuers.

"They're attacking!" the second cop exclaimed, "Shoot them!"

Both cops fired their weapons until they were empty and Huntress and Question fell to ground.

"Hey, I think we got them…" one cop said as he and his partner stood over the two bodies, squinting through the dark trying to see them.

"You check his pulse, I'll check the hers." The other officer commanded.

Both policemen bent down so that they were kneeling next to the seemingly dead bodies of Question and Huntress.

"Now!" Question shouted.

At his cue, he and Huntress sat straight up, punching the two cops in the face and successfully knocking both unconscious. Then, they stood and continued in the direction they had originally been going when the cops had stopped them.

"It won't be long before the other ones get here." Huntress reminded, as they ran "I can hear the sirens now."

Indeed the sound of police sirens could be heard approaching.

"Yeah, but we'll be gone by then." Question stated.

"How?" Huntress asked.

"Because we have a ride." Question answered, holding up a set of car keys he had stolen from the policeman he had knocked out.

He and Huntress stopped running when they reached the police car, still parked blocking the exit of the alley. Huntress grinned widely.

"You may be American," she began, "But you do things like an Italian."

With that, Huntress leaned over and kissed Question right on the cheek of his feature-less face before reaching into his hand and grabbing the car keys.

"I'll drive." She declared and walking around the car and getting into the driver's seat, leaving Question standing there motionless. After a few seconds, she pressed the button to roll down the window closest to him and called out, "You coming or what?"

"Oh." Question managed to choke out, "Right."

He pulled opened the door to the police car and got in. The stolen car sped off into the night of Hub City.

* * *

It's not over yet theres still more to come.

Please review!


	10. Ghosts

Thanks for all the reviews, so far! Please read and I hope you like it!

* * *

Fifteen year old Lizzie had only been going out with fellow high school sophomore Ben for two and half weeks now, but when he told his idea about spending the night inside the haunted mansion she just couldn't refuse.

Nothing was more romantic than sneaking around an abandoned estate where a whole family was said to have been murdered.

But when the young couple actually entered the vacant home through the strangely unlocked doors and wandered around the dark halls with only a lighter to help them see, they soon changed their minds.

The mansion was still completely furnished; everything was exactly as it was on the day eight years ago when its owners had been killed. But the floors now creaked and there was a thick layer of dust that didn't miss a single spot in the home. The wallpaper was peeling and the pictures that hung on the wall looked creepy in the dim lighting.

And when Ben and Lizzie heard voices and footsteps, they decided it was time to leave.

They had run as fast as they could back the way they had come and finally reached the entrance hall where the front doors were located only to see two figures step through doors in the darkness.

"Oh no…" Lizzie whispered scaredly, clutching tightly to Ben's arm.

"Who's there?" Ben shouted out, trying to mask his own fear.

He brandished his lighter in front of him in order to see the two figures approach better.

Lizzie and Ben both gasped in shock and horror when they saw that one of the figures had no face.

"Oh my god it's a ghost!" Lizzie screamed, "It's the faceless horseman of Sleepy Hollow!"

"Get away!" Ben yelled, throwing his lighter at the figure.

Question caught the lighter, closing it then stuffed it into his pocket.

"Actually it's the headless horseman, not the faceless horseman." He corrected, "A legend, that actually does have some truth to it and—"

"Don't you dare start." Huntress interrupted quickly, then addressed Ben and Lizzie, "Who hell are you and what are you doing here? You think you can just raid my house like this?"

"We didn't do anything wrong!" Lizzie squealed, "We didn't mean to offend you, ghost lady, we just—"

"Shut up!" Ben told his girlfriend, pulling her behind him, and then turning to Huntress, "You guys must be cops or something, I see the car outside. The only reason we're here is because she's a ghost-fanatic and I heard some rumors about a man, a woman and little girl being killed here ten years ago or something. I wanted to impress her with this old house and get in her pants. We're not thieves and we're not squatters so just let us leave, alright? My dad's someone important; you don't wanna mess with him."

"Fine." Huntress agreed, pointing to the door, "Get out of here. Now."

"Thank you, ghost lady!" Lizzie cried, "We're so sorry for disturbing your home and I hope you find peace and rest!"

Huntress rolled her eyes. Peace and rest, _as if_.

"Come on." Ben barked, grabbing Lizzie and pulling her past Huntress and out the door.

"So, 'ghost lady', huh?" Question repeated once the teenage couple had escaped down the hill.

"Just go move the car, 'faceless horseman'." Huntress ordered flatly, tossing him the keys.

Nodding and catching the keys, Question exited the Bertinelli Mansion and went back to the police car so he could move it somewhere less visible. He didn't want any trouble and if a fifteen year old boy spotted the car so could anyone looking for him or Huntress.

When Question returned to the house after parking the car in a convenient garage he had to roam around the halls until he finally found Huntress standing in front of a large framed photograph hung on the wall of more than twenty people.

"Are you sure this is the best place to hide?" he asked, "All doors are unlocked so someone's been in here before and the police know who you are so more than highly probable they'd come to look for you here. I mean, this_ is_ your house, you know. .."

"Damn right it is." Huntress declared, "I've got the deed in my envelope of money. I legally own it, so they're gonna need a warrant if they wanna get in here. Besides there's a secret tunnel into the old coal mines anyway if we have to run."

"Alright." Question agreed, moving to stand next to her so he could also see the picture.

He still didn't think the mansion was the best place to hideout from the cops but understood why Huntress would need to be here so decided not to press the matter further.

If the police came, they came and Question would deal with that then.

It was quiet for a few minutes on until Huntress finally spoke again, this time in a much softer voice.

"That's my whole family." She explained in regards to the photograph, "All purebred mafia criminals. We'd always get together every year right outside this very house, by the mine and take the picture. This one was the year before I turned eight. It was a few weeks before we were gonna take the next one when Cassamento..."

Huntress trailed off but then shook her head.

She wasn't gonna let the nostalgia of her childhood home get to her.

Cassamento was already dead; her parents were avenged, she had done what she had come here to do.

It was supposed to be all over now, but the mansion was like a time capsule, bringing her back to that life changing moment when her father and mother told her they'd be right back and left her alone in the room.

"It's not fair." Huntress commented, tone changing.

"What's not?" Question inquired, anticipating a statement about how Cassamento taken everything from her.

"You probably know all about everyone in that picture." Huntress clarified, "My dad, my mom, all my uncles and cousins and aunts, and about the mafia. You know all about me, but I don't know anything about you. You helped me to take down Cassamento and get away from the police but I don't even know who you are."

"That is correct." Question commented matter-of-factly.

Huntress turned to him and stared at him expectantly, arms folded.

"What?" Question finally shrugged, feeling uncomfortable by her unblinking gaze.

"Who are you?" she exclaimed, "Tell me!"

"Uh, No." Question refused bluntly.

"Ugh...fine." Huntress groaned, turning her back to him and beginning to walk at a fast pace, "Whatever. Come on."

"Where?" Question asked, following her.

Huntress didn't answer and so they strode silently down the hall until Huntress finally lead Question into a medium sized room, flicking on a light switch that amazingly still worked after eight years of unused.

"Believe it or not, all this is a closet; my mom's to be exact." Huntress stated.

Question believed it.

A long rack curved around two sides of the room and on it hung what must have been a hundred outfits. On the bare wall rested another door.

"My dad's closet is in there." Huntress added, pointing to the door, "He was about your size but I don't think he has any extra faces lying around in there."

"Who knows?" Question retorted, passing Huntress and going into Guido Bertinelli's closet to steal his clothes.

He did feel a little bad about that, but it had been more than a day since he or Huntress had changed clothes so raiding her dead parents' closets was a good idea on her part.

Question flipped on the light to the second closet and shut the door behind him, causing Huntress to let out a laugh.

"That shy, huh?" she joked, loudly enough for him to hear her through the door, "Don't worry, I won't peak. But you probably don't take your mask off for even a second, do you?"

"Say that again, I didn't catch it!" Question called, pretending not to have heard Huntress.

He had chosen a suit off Guido Bertinelli's rack of clothing and after thoroughly dusting off was in the process of changing into it. It had already dulled from its original olive green but it was better than black or gray.

"I said-!" Huntress began purposefully speaking obnoxiously loud, poking her head through the door as she opened it a crack. But upon seeing, Question, she stopped mid sentence and started again, "You know my mom hated that one, said it called too much attention but dad, he loved it. He said this city needed more color."

Question turned to face Huntress and she came into the room, seeing that she had also changed out of her costume and into a simple lavender dress.

Her mask was off and so for the first time Question could see the tired, faint dark circles under her eyes.

"He was right." He said quietly, still watching Helena.

"Oh just take off the mask already!" she demanded, walking over to him, "Come on, _please_!"

"Again, no." Question protested, turning away from Helena, "Why do you want me to take it off so badly anyway? You already saw my name and face on TV in the diner; you know what I look like."

"Maybe I just want to look in your eyes."

Question stood quietly for what felt like days after Helena had said that, thinking.

Finally he sighed and bent down; reaching into the pocket of original clothes that now lay on the floor since he had changed. He pulled out a spray can, spraying the contents onto his face and then standing up again.

Vic Sage turned around to face Helena Bertinelli so she could 'look in his eyes'.

He was surprised to find her grinning, stifling a few giggles with one hand.

"I can't believe you actually bought that." She smiled, looking his face over; auburn hair and green eyes.

Vic awkwardly matched her smile, embarrassed by her laughter and admittedly (to himself) not good at interacting with people face to face that had seen him faceless.

Mask on and off was and easy switch for Helena. She had the same personality whether she was herself or the Huntress and just about everyone in Hub knew exactly who she was either way.

But for Vic it was really hard.

Helena was the first person to see and know his (current) identity and also see and know him wearing his mask. She was also the only one whom he had ever teamed up with and she had quite a strange, almost supernatural, ability to get him to do exactly what she wanted.

A coincidence?

No such thing.

So why….?

Maybe it was just time to ditch the mask for good.

And for some reason, that idea suddenly reminded Vic of something. Someone, actually; his 'favorite' mayor Wesley Fermin. He had to deal with him.

"There's something I have to go do." Vic stated, becoming quite serious.

"What? Why?" Helena exclaimed, smile leaving her face, "I thought you said we had to stay together!"

"I'll be back." Vic assured as he turned to the hallway door of the closet and started to walk away.

"No!" Helena countered, running after him and attempting to pull him back.

Her grip was strong and so Vic was caught between the closet and the hall in the door.

"At least tell me what it is!" she demanded.

"I have to finish things with the mayor before it's too late and someone else takes control of the mafia." Vic explained, almost choking because he didn't usually reveal his plans, "This could be my only opportunity to finally end the corruption in Hub City."

Helena sighed, releasing him and shaking her head.

"You talk about corruption way too much." She commented, "But you've gotta do what you've got to do and I know how that is."

Vic stared at her, Helena wasn't one to give up that easily.

"And once the police get off my ass I'll be leaving this country anyway," She added, bitterness hidden by a flip of her dark brown hair, "So I think it's best we split up. It was fun while it lasted though."

Helena tried to smile and it was almost believable.

"If that's what you feel is right, then I suppose that's what we should do…" Vic nodded weakly, not sure he if agreed that splitting up was a good idea.

He reached down again, grabbing his old clothes and slinging them over his shoulder, then headed out the door and into the hall.

"See you…never, I guess…" Helena said to Vic's back, which reminded her so much of an empty face.

"I guess." He shrugged and disappeared into the darkness of the unlit hall.

When she could hear his footsteps no longer, Helena closed the closet door and buried herself amongst her fathers clothes, watching them and her mother's through the open connecting door sway like ghosts on their hangers.

* * *

It was three-thirty-three in the morning yet the lights were still on in Wesley Fermin's living room as he and his wife Myra sat on a couch across from their son Ben, who was seated, arms folded, in almost a pouting position in an armchair.

"I can't believe you were out that late!" Fermin shouted, his hair graying by the second, "You know this city's dangerous, especially at night! Why would you sneak out of the house?"

"How could you do that, you had me worried sick!" Myra added, "It's so dangerous with that crazed killer that murdered those people at that hotel on the loose!"

"God, dad, calm down!" Ben groaned, "Mom it's no big deal."

"Where you? Drinking alcohol?" Fermin continued angrily, "I warned you once, son…"

"It wasn't like that!" Ben protested, "Me and my friend, we were just checking out this old house…"

"What friend, a girlfriend?" Myra inquired, "You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend!"

"A house? What house?" Fermin demanded, instantly thinking of the Bertinelli Mansion.

"Just this stupid old haunted house!" Ben answered, frustration with his parents growing.

But before either of the adults could do anything, the sound of shattering glass was heard upstairs.

"What was that?" Ben yelled, jumping up from the chair.

"It's the burglar again!" Myra exclaimed, "Wesley do something! Call the police!"

"No." Fermin said firmly, standing, "Both of you, stay here. I know who it is and I'm taking care of him once and for all."

Striding out of the room and up the stairs, filled with courage only found at that early an hour, Fermin decided that he would finally end his fued with Vic Sage one way or another.

Fermin stepped into his study, turning on the light to see exactly who he expected to see wiping the pieces of broken window off of a green suit.

"Sage, you've gone too far, breaking into my house for a second time!" Fermin declared, pointing at Vic dramatically, "But it's over now!"

"We need to talk." Vic replied as non-confrontationally as he could when speaking to the man he had despised for quite some time.

"I have nothing to say to you!" Fermin stated, rushing over to his desk, "I'm not playing games anymore. You are done here! No more talking trash about me on TV!"

Fermin snatched a small key out of his pocket and quickly jammed into the lock of one of his desk drawers, throwing it open and expecting to find the small gun he kept just in case but had never fired.

The drawer was empty.

Fermin looked up from the vacant drawer and glared at Vic who smiled.

"I hope you don't mind but your desk was overdue for a clean-up and I took the liberty." Vic explained, "Now, I hope we can talk."

"What do you want?" Fermin asked tiredly, sitting down in his desk and holding his head in his hands.

"Santo Cassamento's dead." Vic told him.

Fermin's eyes flew wide open and he sat up straight.

"Impossible." He replied assuredly.

"I saw it happen." Vic continued, "And I've come to tell you that now's your chance to finally be free of the mafia's control!"

"No…no, that could never happen…" Fermin muttered, shaking his head, "I don't know how you found out about Cassamento but—"

"I'm telling you he's dead!" Vic interrupted, "And I know where his gang is hiding! You can take them down at last,65 before someone else gets control! Now might be the only time, Fermin, you must act!"

"No, I can't." Fermin refused, "They'll kill me…"

"Not if you get them first!" Vic pleaded, "There headquarters is in the coal factory, you were there! They have no influence outside of Hub so if you get them all no one will be able to come after you!"

"I don't believe you." Fermin responded, "Ever since I became mayor, all you've done is try to ruin my life! How can I trust your word now? This could all be a plan to set me up!"

"You have to believe me!" Vic exclaimed, practically begging, "It's the only way to save this city from corruption!"

At that, Fermin just laughed.

"What makes you think this city can be saved?" he asked, leaning back in his chair, "What makes you think this city _wants _to be saved?"

Sighing, Vic clenched his fists.

Why weren't things ever easy?

Why didn't things, for once, just go his way?"

But the answer was so simple; it was just the way things were.

_There was no changing it and so the forces of good and evil, freedom and corruption would forever be locked in an endless battle for control. And the bad guys would win, most of the time a least. But sometimes, the good guys would win. Evil would allow good just enough victories to keep them fighting. _

But now obviously wasn't one of those rare times.

Defeated, Vic turned back to the smashed window and prepared to climb through it, stopping to say one more thing.

"If you won't save the very city that elected you, that you've lived in your entire life…" Vic began, half way through the window, "The least you can do is call your dogs off Helena Bertinelli. You know she's innocent and didn't kill those people in the hotel. Just let her alone, she's been through enough."

With that, he exited, leaving Fermin alone in his study.

* * *

Landing in a bush and wasting no time in running as fast as he could away from the Fermin residence incase the police were called on him was Vic.

He already in an awful mood because his discussion with Fermin hadn't gone the way he had wanted it to and he was only aggravated more when, a couple blocks away from Fermin's house, someone jumped out at him from behind a trashcan.

"Move." Vic told the man, who was barely visible in the early morning darkness and the lack of street lights.

"Showing your face these days, eh?" he chuckled, "I guess you do look that picture the police had of you."

It was the homeless man again.

"I thought you were blind." Vic replied.

"That I am." The hobo affirmed, "But as I said before, I still see better than a man with eyes."

"What are you doing here; this isn't your usual alley." Vic asked.

"You and the girl chased me away from my usual alley." The homeless man explained.

Vic remembered perusing the crash-happy taxi driver and his companion with Huntress down the alleyway before being stopped by the police.

"That was you?" Vic inquired, both shocked and angered.

He knew there was more to this homeless man than met the eye but he had no idea he was in league with that cab driver, who was obviously a member of a certain world-dominating secret organization.

"I'm disappointed, Victor, I really am. I thought I taught you better than that."

The man's voice suddenly changed, growing deeper and less raspy, a hint of malice laced within his words.

Vic had to force himself not to gasp because he recognized the voice.

The man reached into the pocket of his dirty and tattered overcoat, pulling out a very familiar-looking spray can. He aimed it at his face and pushed.

When the fog cleared, Vic was left standing face to face with the man who had taught him everything he knew.

"You-but how! _Why?_" Vic stammered.

Not much shocked or scared him to this degree but the reappearance of his former mentor did the trick.

"Don't look so surprised, you and I both knew that this would happen eventually." The man responded, smirking.

"How could you betray everything you've lived for and join _them_?" Vic demanded.

"You know what they say, 'if you can't beat 'em, join 'em." The man shrugged, as if was nothing.

"Yeah, and I know why they say it." Vic snarled, "To persuade people like you in to becoming one of them. Tell me, what did they offer you? What did they give you to get you to give up all you believed in?"

"Why, everything, Victor. They gave me everything." The man declared, "Now I know, I finally know. I know it all. I don't have to wonder anymore or guess. I don't have to _question_."

"But that was whole purpose, asking the question." Vic countered, "If there's no question you know there can be no answer."

"That's where you're wrong." The man stated, "There is answer, always an answer. And I've come offer that to you now, Victor. You too can know it all, join us and finally see the light."

"What light?" Vic chuckled bitterly, glancing around the black, barren street, "All I see is dark."

"I knew you would say that, you know." The man replied.

"Then why bother to ask the question?" Vic retorted, glaring.

"Because I was really hoping you wouldn't." the man admitted sadly, "It would've been fun working together again; I've been so bored since we parted ways."

"Is that why you sold you soul to the devil?" Vic insulted.

"What is Lucifer but the bringer of light?" the man responded rhetorically, "It was the forbidden fruit that gave Adam and Eve the knowledge and—"

"You know I really don't feel like listening to one of your tedious lectures right now, professor." Vic interrupted, "You know you can't defend the illuminati and there's nothing you can do to convince me to join that _cult_."

"You know that's what _he _said too." The man stated.

"Who?" Vic inquired, suspiciously.

"Santo Cassamento." The man answered.

"You do mean his ghost, right?" Vic replied, "Because the last time I checked, he was dead."

"Wrong again, Victor." The man laughed, "Santo Cassamento is alive and paranoid as ever, more so than even you, it seems. The mere mention of the illuminati sent him into a shooting frenzy. Regrettably, he killed my partner, the driver who gave you and the girl a ride, in his rage. A pity, although I didn't much like him myself, now I need a new partner. Which is why I came to you."

Vic couldn't believe this.

How could Santo Cassamento still be alive? He had seen him die, there was no way he could have survived that melted metal.

"You're lying." Vic accused, " And I don't have time to listen to this."

Vic sidestepped around the man and began to walk away down the darkened Hub City street.

The man chuckled again, "He's coming after her, you know, he wants his key back and still wants what it unlocks."

"Whatever." Vic replied, continuing to walk away, his back turned to the man, waving him off.

"Don't act like you don't care, Victor my boy, you do." The man called after him, "You showed her your face and you can't take that back. He knows she's in the mansion and he thinks she has the key, when it's actually you who has it. He's going to kill her, Victor, and it'll be all your fault. I know how things like that bother you!"

"Oh well." Vic shrugged, getting further and further away from his ex-teacher, as he went along down the street.

But once he was far enough away from the man to remain unseen, Vic's normal pace turned into a mad sprint. Even though the man was probably lying, Vic couldn't risk it.

He had to get back to the Bertinelli Mansion and warn Helena because if Cassamento was still alive it would certainly spell trouble.

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I hope you all still like it.

And don't worry, things will become more clear later. I again, took some creative freedom with adding in that random homeless-guy/Illuminati member so yeah, he's not a real character in the show or comic (which I have never read).

Please review!


	11. Ten Years Ago

Well sorry it took so long and sorry it's short but yeah, please read and review! It's kinda a flashback chapter or past chapter or whatever.

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_**Ten Years Ago….**_

The Fermin fundraiser party would have been white tie but things had changed and although it was still a thousand dollars campaign contribution to get in the door and the expansive room was still full of people, the location and the guests were different.

"I remember back when I had my first get together like this." Wesley Fermin (senior) told his son, who was seated across from him at the long table clothed in white, "It looked like an Italian wedding. At least four of the major families showed up, gave the maximum 10 and there was enough money to go around that we could let all the little coal miners and their families in for free! Now look at this, only one family, the Bertinelli's, support me—I mean you-well, us anymore and it's black tie and no vest, for god's sake! Politics has no class anymore, my son, no class!"

Wesley Fermin junior just rolled his eyes.

He had heard his father's rant a hundred times before and was tired of it.

Fermin junior's father, his grandfather, his great grand father and so on had all been mayor of Hub City and now, of course, it was his turn. He was in his early thirties, as young as his father had been but times had changed, and not at all interested in being mayor.

But just as he had to look exactly like his father before him, he had to become mayor or else shame his entire lineage.

His wife and four year old son sat next to him at the table. Benjamin (whose grandfather had wanted him to be named Wesley in the family tradition) was picking at the catered food with his tiny fingers while Myra tried desperately to get a stain out of the little black dress she did not intend to wear only once.

The party was dwindling, as were the amount of champagne cups available, and Wesley Fermin senior was getting increasingly worried. Guido Bertinelli, who was seated in the back with his wife and eight year old daughter, could tell, even from across the room.

When Guido had been growing up, these campaign parties had always been held up at the Bertinelli mansion and were crawling with Italians. Now other than himself, his wife Carmela and daughter Helena, Santo Cassamento and Steven Mandragora were the only Italians there and all of them had been confined to a tiny table in the back of the rented dinning area of the hotel, like an embarrassment.

Everybody in Hub knew that the Bertinelli's were mafia now and now they actually cared. Not like before, when it was the mafia run coal-mining industry that gave everyone their jobs, alcohol and loans.

The Bertinelli's still owned all the coal mines and factories; Guido had inherited them along with the mob when his father died, but now there were other jobs in sales and the like that took the industry's place. People could get loans from banks easier now and liquor was legal so the mafia had fallen out of favor with in Hub.

_The cloud of corruption was slowly dissipating…_

But it wasn't gone yet and if there was one thing the mafia could still do in Hub City it was fix an election.

Granted, all the Fermin's before the youngest Wesley running now won easily and didn't need to cheat in the poles, but the current candidate wasn't doing so well and so Guido Bertinelli was going to make sure he would win.

Besides, he needed the mayor's favor.

And so Guido, in a bold move, crossed the room and stopped at the Fermin's table, extending a hand to shake both senior and junior.

Wesley Fermin Senior, who despite feeling uncomfortable about being seen with a known mafioso, knew his manners and stood up from his seat. He turned to face Guido and the two shook hands.

Wesley Fermin Junior, however, remained seated, quite afraid actually of Guido Bertinelli and gave only a nervous wave to say hello.

Both men had actually gone to private school together, but although their fathers wanted them to be friends, they had never really hung out with the same crowds.

"I see you are worried." Guido told the senior, "Don't be, your son will win."

"Yes…" he agreed, but his voice didn't sound very sure.

Looking around, he was relieved that at least no one at the party noticed who he was talking to yet.

But before the conversation could continue, Santo Cassamento, who was inappropriately dressed for the occasion in a leather jacket, came stomping up to the table, fists clenched and mouth in a scowl.

Wesley Fermin Junior cowered, a little, behind his wife. He had also gone to school with Santo, who had bullied him his entire adolescence.

"This is a big insult, Fermin!" Cassamento shouted.

All eyes in the room, which had previously been drooping in boredom, widened and turned to look at the scene unfolding over at the Fermin's table.

"Santo, shut up." Guido muttered, elbowing his friend in the ribs.

"No, I will not shut up!" Cassamento exclaimed, slicking his greased hair back, "You take this sitting down, you let him do this to us! You should be telling him to be quiet! He knows he would not even be here if it wasn't for us, and our fathers!"

"Let's discuss this outside." Fermin Senior suggested, watching the guest stare at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Are you embarrassed by me, sir?" Cassamento continued, as loudly as he could possibly managed, "Are you embarrassed by us?"

He stretched his arms out wide and making himself completely visible to every guest, the audience of his spectacle.

He then turned slightly to Guido.

"Hey, hey Guido!" he feigned a whisper that everyone could here, "I don't think our good friend Wesley Fermin here wants to be seen talking to us, maybe we should leave!"

"Mr. Fermin, I am so sorry about this!" Guido apologized, looking away from Cassamento and at both Wesley Fermins.

"Why the hell are you apologizing?" Cassamento yelled, and then turned to the Fermins, pointing at each of them in turn, "_You_ should be apologizing! You should be apologizing! You should be apologizing! Even you should be apologizing, little boy!"

Cassamento's finger had stopped in the direction of the toddler, Benjamin, who didn't register the situation and continued to play with his food.

Wesley Fermin Junior was hiding under the table and Myra was looking around, wondering who would protect her if her husband wasn't going to. Wesley Fermin Senior, still standing with a serious expression on his face, said nothing.

Santo Cassamento was about to say more, but from behind, he was grabbed and pulled away by a giant white man. (Mandragora was the only one there dressed in white tie, and in fact a whole white suit, but simply because he preferred the color)

"Get off me!" Cassamento growled as he struggled to break free of Mandragora's grasp, "You let this happen too! Both of you!"

"Mr. Fermin, I am deeply sorry about this." Guido apologized again, "You will find restitution for this embarrassment wired to your account, along with my campaign contribution of the maximum amount. I apologize for his outburst."

Fermin still said nothing and watched as Guido backed away quickly and left the room.

The rest of the guests, now that that night's entertainment was over, returned to their meals and dull conversation.

Outside the hotel Guido and Carmela both held their daughter's hands tightly as they hurried down the sidewalk toward their limo. They hoped the whole scene hadn't traumatized young Helena in anyway.

"He probably just had too much to drink." Guido decided, trying not to think poorly of his long time friend despite his anger and shame.

Carmela wasn't as convinced. She knew Cassamento had become very paranoid lately, believing that the Illuminati was the reason that the other three families disappeared within Hub and the coal mining industry could not expand out of it and was slowly starting to fail.

She had tried to tell her husband before, but he wouldn't listen, his trust of his friend overpowering the truth. But dutiful Carmela would try again, later when her daughter wasn't around to here all the nonsense.

"I know why Uncle Santo was mad!" Helena giggled, "He told me!"

"Sometimes when he is angry he says things he doesn't mean." Guido dismissed, "And does things he regrets later."

"What did he tell you?" Carmela demanded, hoping to god that Helena's mind hadn't been polluted by Cassamento.

"It's a secret, I can't tell you or dad!" Helena chirped, skipping along, waving her own hands along with those of her parents.

Carmela stopped walking, let go of her daughter's hand and bent down in front of her.

"Helena, listen to me," she said seriously, looking her straight in the eyes, "Tell me what your 'Uncle Santo' told you, right now."

"Carmela, come on!" Guido called, pulling Helena along, "It's nothing, let's go. The car is waiting!"

Shaking her head, Carmela rose and followed her husband and daughter into the limo which drove away from the hotel and towards the Bertinelli mansion.

Outside on the curb, in front of the hotel, however, two figures remained.

"If I were to release you right now," Mandragora began, "Would you run back into that party and cause another difficult situation, or will stand outside with me while I wait for a taxi?"

Cassamento, who was still being restrained by Mandragora, tried once more to free himself before giving up and conceding, "…I'll stay outside with you…".

"You have to promise me." Mandragora added, pink eyes glistening in the night, "Your word as a mafia solider."

"Yeah! You have my word!" Cassamento barked, wrenching again, "Just let me go, now!"

Mandragora let Cassamento drop to the pavement, laughing to himself. Standing up and turning to face Mandragora, Cassamento started to talk.

"Guido's going soft, I saw it in there and so did you."

"All I saw was you being unable to control yourself." Mandragora countered.

"I control myself when it is necessary!" Cassamento hissed, "In there it was not necessary! That was a mockery. We were put in a table at the back, and then the way Guido begged and pleaded with Fermin like that, apologized. That was disgusting! Fermin should have been on his knees, thanking us!"

"Times have changed." Mandragora reminded.

"Yes, and I know why!" Cassamento declared, "It's because Guido is weak, and couldn't take his father's place. But also, because of the Illuminati!"

"Don't start that again, I will kill you." Mandragora warned, flashing his brass knuckle, "I am very tired of hearing about your ridiculous conspiracy theories."

"But why do you think the companies in Central wouldn't sell!" Cassamento continued, heedless of Mandragora's threat, "We had the deal to buy their mines all worked out perfectly and then the day it was supposed to go down, they back out and we're stuck in Hub! Why is that?"

"Doesn't matter." Mandragora shrugged, "We have money here. Life is good here."

"Yes, but we could have more!" Cassamento exclaimed, "More money, a better life! Only if we could expand. But Guido is too scared and keeping us from moving beyond Hub and the rest of the world is keeping us trapped inside it. It's like the two forces are working together. It's like Guido is working with them!"

"There is no illuminati." Mandragora stated, "And even if there was, Guido is not working with them."

"But still, there is more money to be made outside of Hub, so many cities and so many industries to dominate." Cassamento replied, "And if there is no illuminati and Guido is not working with them, he is only weak and the only reason that we are still stuck here. Either way, there is only one option to solve this problem."

"And just what is that option?" Mandragora inquired.

"To kill Guido Bertinelli and take over the Cosca." Cassamento answered.

A dropped out of college Vic Sage clicked the off button to the small tape recorder and set it down on the desk in front of him. All his classmates and professors had told him that he could go on to big things but instead he had chosen to go back.

Back to Hub City, the United States capital of corruption.

"Have you heard enough, or do you need more?" Vic asked, smirking and reaching into his pocket for another identical tape recorder, also filled with interesting information.

He had snuck in as a waiter to the Fermin fundraiser and hid tape recorders under every table that picked up every incriminating sentence spoken. Talks about bribes, fixing elections, illegal money transfers, everything that was Hub City.

He had also hidden in an alleyway behind the hotel and overheard a very interesting conversation between two mafia members that discussed everything from business, to the illuminati, to murdering their own boss.

"That was truly and beautifully intriguing piece of investigative journalism." Mr. O'Neil declared, standing up from behind his desk and holding out a hand, "Mr. Vic Sage, you've got yourself a job!"

"I've always had a job." Vic responded, also standing and shaking Mr. O'Neil's hand, "To identify and expose corruption, it's why I returned to Hub."

"Yes, yes, Vic, you told me that." O' Neil nodded, "But now you can identify and expose corruption twice a week on public broadcast, for pay."

"Ending corruption is my pay." Vic declared, but then decided to add, "But I still do want the salary." Just in case.

"Of course." O' Neil agreed, smiling, "But as of now, you're on the clock. So earn your pay and go find me more slime like the ones on those tapes you've got there."

"Yes, sir!" Vic replied and rushed out of the office.

He was excited about his new job as well as his old job and at his young age the cruel corruption of the world had yet to weigh him down into bitterness.

Once out of the streets of Hub City Vic breathed in the smoggy air, looked up at the sunless sky and set out to find an answer for every question.

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Please review!


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